


Something Different

by mrhiddles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Murder Mystery, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 103,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhiddles/pseuds/mrhiddles
Summary: When a muggle is slain to send a message, the Ministry sends Draco Malfoy to guard Hermione Granger.Edited and partially rewritten for reupload. First posted on FFnet in 2009.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this in 2008 and it was posted between 2009-2011 on FFnet. When AO3 came around I had deleted everything off my FFnet account and switched over, starting in new fandoms.
> 
> I'm proud of this story and I wanted to give it the update/rewrite it deserves. I stuck to editing grammatical errors, spelling, and most of the rewriting is adding new scenes or replacing old stuff I was rolling my eyes at. I didn't want to alter the plot or anything extreme. This received a lot of love on FFnet, so I hope you guys like it too. Is it perfect? No. My intent was to give it a facelift, not to rewrite the thing top to bottom.
> 
> I have a brand new Dramione fic I'm planning right now that's a WWII AU. So look out for that soon!

Draco Malfoy knew something was off the moment he opened his eyes. Barely out of sleep and squinting, he rose to his elbows on the plush bed. The area next to him was rumpled and cold, meaning Astoria had been absent for some time. Instantly, he had an idea of what she was up to. He heard distant movement in his kitchen and knew it was her. Quietly he stood, pulling the blanket around his waist as he did so, and walked to the kitchen where he knew she’d be rummaging through his things. But Astoria was already heading for the front door, fully clothed and clutching her hand bag as she made for the knob.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked from his spot in the doorway. He imagined he looked a mess but didn’t exactly care at that moment.

“Oh, love. You’re awake.” Astoria stated, a little too happily. She was dressed in her nicest robes, clean cut and deep red, fashionable. She was definitely headed on one of her shopping trips. The dark strands of her hair were pulled into a tidy bun at the back of her head, pulling her features taut and making her garish eyeliner all the more outstanding.

“Yes. Where are you going? It’s barely…seven in the morning,” he said, blinking at the clock on his wall. But he already had a pretty good idea.

“To Paris of course. I told you just the other day I’d be headed out with your mother. I borrowed some more galleons if you don’t mind. They have this new shop that just opened and everyone’s going to—”

Raising his hand, he cut her off, trying to keep his rising frustration in check, “Please, just…go. It’s too bloody early for this.” With a vague nod, Astoria left Draco to turn back to bed. There was no point in arguing _again_ over the same thing.

Once he heard the affirming click of the closed door, Draco ran a tired hand past his hair and decided to sleep in a little longer before he headed off to the Ministry for another mundane day of work. Astoria certainly had a way of putting him off a good mood before his mood even had a chance to be good.

\--

The streets of London were brisk. A chopping wind was starting up and certainly meant for another cold day. Dressed thickly and comfortably Harry Potter stood next to Ron Weasley on the apex of an alleyway, its innards dark and rank with the stench of bitter copper. Blood sprayed on the walls in oddly familiar shapes, almost letters, but it was nothing to get excited about. Simply a trick of the mind. They both looked on the scene with distaste. The body of a muggle man sat slumped in between the tight walls, his death obvious with the gash in his skull, a spattering of slash marks across his chest.

As Ron warded off the sides of the alleyway so that no passersby would be able to see them, Harry inspected the scene. Using his wand, he was able to determine it was indeed magic that had killed the man, but the wounds and clear signs of torture were done by hand. Whoever had done this wanted the man to suffer before he died. Harry squatted down and using his wand, tipped the man’s head one way and then the other, revealing no wounds on his neck. Though Harry did notice a fold of white paper peeking out the top of the man’s jacket to the left.

Taking it with his hands, Harry saw it was a scrap of parchment with two letters on it.

_H.G._

Initials.

Dread settled low in his stomach, and he was reminded of the old days, back when things were bad, when the war seemed like it would never end. Harry quickly brought it to the attention of Ron.

“’Mione?” Ron asked, staring at the body blankly. Harry didn’t answer; instead he pocketed the paper and took on a determined stance, despite the sickness mulling in his gut.

“We’re going to the Ministry,” Harry said simply, grabbing hold of Ron’s arm and apparating them on the spot.

\--

Hermione Granger had always been an early riser, and today was no exception. As she strode to her office, new case files for S.P.E.W. firmly in hand, she trekked the familiar hallways towards her destination. She had a lot to do today, an anti-house elf rights protest was happening in Westminster, a little too close to Buckingham for her tastes and she had to be there to take note of what happened, and should the need arise, to interfere accordingly. It would be quite rewarding if something was made of today, though Hermione knew not to expect too much of the event. She had her plans but knew not to get too ahead of herself. She had only had S.P.E.W. firmly established in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for barely six months, after all. She had the protest to worry about.

Wherever there was a protest, there were counter-protests always set against the initial subject’s cause. It never diminished Hermione’s determination however, rather it kept her going. She knew she had a purpose in the world, and she would fulfill it, if she had to take every high-nosed pureblood by the hand kicking and screaming along the way.

As she turned a corner, her hair bouncing out of the corner of her eye, a nameless coworker grabbed her arm and stopped her. Hermione was somewhat affronted by this because she certainly never yanked on the arm of a random passerby. She focused her attention on the person who grabbed her, a young blonde female with freckles gracing her cheeks, just underneath a set of pale blue eyes. Her eyelashes blended into her skin so perfectly, it was as if they were not there at all. She reminded her of Luna.

“I am told to bring you to the Minister, miss,” the small girl said in a delicate voice.

Hermione nodded, though wondered at what the Minister could want. “I’ll follow you, then,” she said, readjusting her files in her arms.

The pale girl nodded and led her to the main meeting room, which was simply just an extension of what Shacklebolt’s office was. The chairs were high and neatly set beneath the long rectangular table. Hermione and the pale girl—who was practically jumping out of her skin—shared a short awkward silence, before the girl nodded to her and closed the door, leaving Hermione to fend for herself. She took a seat towards the front of the table, setting her files down in front of her.

As the moments dragged on, her curiosity of the situation grew. Perhaps her recent success in diminishing pureblooded prejudice in the ministry from her suggestion to integrate more muggle-born witches and wizards in different departments was receiving recognition. She could only hope.

About another five minutes passed before the ornate wooden door opened to reveal a very stiff looking Harry, followed a moment after by a worried Ron.

After a moment of pleasant surprise, Hermione sent them both a smile; Ron wasn’t really looking at her though, he had his eyes set on Harry. Her smile faltered, it was going to be like this was it? It had been almost a year since things had ended and he was still acting weird. They had barely had a chance to get together, the three of them. Work had consumed their recent lives, and she yearned suddenly for a chance to talk to him. She huffed out a puff of air in irritation and smoothed her skirt where she sat. Harry and Ron stood at the front of the table, not talking.

This was tedious.

It really showed how much things had changed between the three of them. Harry had Ginny now, and his work as an Auror hardly left them any time to talk or see each other. And Ron…was well, being his usual self—pigheaded and childish. And she was tired of dealing with that. Still, she had managed to keep her friendship with them as much as she could, and she hoped she would be able to repair it to its fullest one day soon.

Just as Hermione was about to say something, the Minister walked in, saying, “So, Mister Potter, what do you have for me this fine day?”

Harry shifted and handed the Minister a normal looking manila file folder with a muttered, “Nothing good, Kingsley.”

He quickly flipped through it, apparently not having much to read through, and finally took hold of a small piece of paper. He glanced at it, then at Hermione, and placed it back inside. With a frown set firmly in place he nodded, and set the file down on the table.

Hermione was beginning to get anxious, what was going on?

“Potter. This is only a hunch?” Harry nodded and cast a worried look at Hermione, which was returned with a fiery stare from the brunette.

Harry said, “Hermione, Ron and I were called to investigate a homicide this morning. A shopkeep discovered a muggle body this morning in an alleyway. It was the killing curse, but he had obviously been stabbed through with a short blade multiple times, and his skull was caved in.”

Ron shifted his weight around and said, a little choked, “It wasn’t subtle either, ‘Mione. There was blood, everywhere…” Harry opened the file folder and took out the piece of paper, handling it a while before he finally handed it to Hermione.

“We found this in his collar.”

Hermione, grateful for finally getting something of an answer was stopped short, two letters were written on the paper. Her initials. Immediately her mind raced of what this could be, a muggle killed by magic; obviously a Voldemort supporter or an anti-muggle wizard. Hermione was the most popular muggle born witch in the world, the brightest of her age as Rita always loved to tout. But H.G. could be anyone or anything. It didn’t have to mean _her_.

But it was the set of Harry’s shoulders and his blanched stare that had her doubting the theory.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked, all business. It wouldn’t do to get upset.

Harry shook his head. “We need to do some more field work before we can make a sound conclusion—”

“But we need you to be protected, just in case the initials mean you’re target after all,” Ron interjected. His eyes bore into hers, all concern. Hermione didn’t say anything, now was not the time to argue with him.

“I don’t have a problem with that, though I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I assume you’re assigning Harry or Ron to be my knight in shining armor?” she said, brows raising. She didn’t like the idea of being protected but she trusted the two of them implicitly, no matter the fact her and Ron were on the outs, and Harry was always swamped with work.

There was a beat of silence before she saw Harry’s eyes flick from hers to somewhere behind her. His lips quirked and a muscle twitched in his jaw, like he was trying to keep his face even and she _knew_ that damnable look.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever been referred to as such, but I’ll take it,” a familiar drawl called from the doorway. Hermione snapped her head around in disbelief.

Draco Malfoy stood unenthusiastically in Kingsley’s doorway, staring her down as if she was the most boring thing in the world.

No fucking way.


	2. Chapter 2

Her mouth dried up and she couldn’t breathe for a moment. Her S.P.E.W. files lay forgotten on the table in front of her as she felt her nails dig into her palms. In that moment she was consumed with the overwhelming possibility that Draco Malfoy was to guard her life. They hated each other for years! Surely it was more dangerous putting her life in the hands of Malfoy than let her handle herself? Her heart pumped faster with an onslaught of memories just imagining how horrible this arrangement would turn out to be if she turned out to be right. And she usually was.

Malfoy was just watching her, his grey eyes roaming over her face. He didn’t look invested in the matter one way or the other. He wasn’t slinging curses at her. He finally blinked and looked at the floor.

It had been four years…perhaps he was less of a git than when they were at Hogwarts? Four years since the war, two of which he’d been employed with the Ministry. In that time, he certainly hadn’t treated her how he used to, or any way much at all. They rarely ran into each other, and she always just assumed he’d rather try and avoid her altogether in order to keep his job.

Hermione took a steadying breath and realized she was being ridiculous. She was acting like it was first year all over again. Really, she had no recent reason to hate him. She’d decided after the war to leave all that behind her. Or at least she thought she had.

Being forced into a room with him for longer a minute was casting doubts on her initial resolve. She remembered how he looked after the battle of Hogwarts and bit her tongue.

Showing no outward hint to the storm racing through her mind, she asked, somewhat strained, “Why is he here, exactly?”

The room shared a tense silence as Malfoy shuffled, glancing at Hermione once more before addressing Kingsley. “I’d like to know the same thing,” he asked.

Kingsley narrowed his eyes. “You _have_ been briefed on the situation, yes?” Malfoy nodded, as did Hermione. “Then I assume it’s obvious, there are only so many Aurors to spare these days, what with the public demanding new wards for their home every few months ever since…well. You know. I have appointed Harry as lead on this case, Mister Weasley as his second. If one of them were to guard you it might lead to conflict of interest as you are all such _close_ friends. And given that little scuffle in the papers last year,” he paused, looking at Ron, “I’d like to avoid that nasty Skeeter as long as possible.”

Kingsley chose to ignore the way Hermione scoffed, Harry awkwardly looked at Ron. Ron shrugged and scowled at the back of Harry’s head. Malfoy observed the interaction with subtle interest.

“So, since I trust Draco, and I trust you Hermione, and since you two don’t have the closest history—”

“That’s one way to put it,” Malfoy interrupted.

Kingsley sighed. “I trust you both to be civil as well. Thanks to Hermione here the Ministry has been quite well rid of pureblooded superiority. Including you Draco.”

Malfoy didn’t acknowledge Hermione’s curious once over.

“Of course,” Kingsley continued, “If things do happen to evolve to an unpleasant state, I will of course alter the arrangement.”

“Oh, we’ll be on our best behavior, won’t we Malfoy?” Hermione asked casually, addressing him directly.

Malfoy’s brows twitched as he nodded in reply. He decidedly did not look at her. “There will be no problems, sir.”

Kingsley smiled, gripped Malfoy’s shoulder, and handed him the file containing the small note and case information. Malfoy tucked it into his side and reached up to fiddle with his collar.

Kingsley focused in on Hermione next, narrowing his eyes at her and pointing. “Until further notice, you are not allowed to work on this case. Besides, it’s not your department anyway.”

She fought not to argue, knowing it would lead nowhere. “I expected that.”

“Well, I’ll leave you four to talk then. Report back every so often and immediately if you have a lead, Harry,” Kingsley said as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Ron waited exactly half a minute before he hurried out the door. The tension emanating from him from just being in a room with Hermione was already noticeable, and Malfoy’s presence probably pushed him over the edge. If they were left in a room together, Ron would most likely start a fight. He was obviously unhappy about not being able to guard her himself, which just added to the unpleasantness of the situation. Hermione didn’t bother to call after him as he stormed out.

Someone was after her life, and she had to work with Malfoy, she had bigger problems to worry about right now.

Harry was taking it quite well, at least on the outside. He tried smiling, but it came out as an awkward slant. Malfoy took one look at him and said, “Listen Potter, your pretty little book worm won’t come to harm with me as her guard. I surmise you want reports from me as well?”

Harry looked just as perplexed, “Um, no…I mean if you want to that’s fine. But Hermione showing up to work every day should be enough to know she’s safe. If something does happen, floo me. Here—” Harry drew out a pad of paper and started to quill out his address, but Draco stopped him.

“I’ll get it from your secretary Potter. You’re too, Granger.”

“Wait, why do you need my address?” she asked, somewhat overwhelmed with the events of the last twenty minutes. It was too surreal to process completely.

“As much as we both dislike these turn of events, we’re going to have to be able to owl or floo each other should the need arise. Shacklebolt already went over this with me before the meeting.”

“Uh-huh.” It was such a stupid response, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I’ll owl the both of you later.” Draco nodded and left the room, taking the turn they knew led to Harry’s secretary.

Hermione smoothed her hair behind her ears and stood, gathering her files. She’d be damned if she was going to let Malfoy ruin her day, or this little arrangement sidetrack her from the protest. She started for the door but felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Harry.

“Yes?”

He frowned and somewhat clumsily drew her in for a hug. Hermione was reluctant at first, still peeved by the entire situation, but returned it as sincerely as she could. She missed Harry so much these days, and Ron she feared would never come around.

“Ron will be fine; I just have to work on him a little. You know how stubborn he can be,” Harry said into her hair.

She could only manage a nod in reply, it was too much to talk right now. She smiled carefully, and backed away, letting his arms fall away from her. Harry grasped her shoulders, “I’ll floo you soon? This weekend?”

The smile she gave him was genuine, “I’d like that.”

“It’s a date then, I’ll bring Ginny too.” He smiled softly and left the room.

Hermione shook her head and closed her eyes. She let out a deep breath and gathered her thoughts before heading out.

She had house elves to support.

\--

 When Hermione opened the door to her own office, she was surprised to see Malfoy sitting in one of the guest chairs at her desk. She tried to hide the shock on her features, but the arch of her eyebrows was noticed by the impeccable blond. He simply stared at her, his bangs falling in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair and reclasped his hands in his lap, his knee jumping slightly.

They remained locked in a stare for all of a minute before Malfoy cleared his throat and turned back around to face the back wall of her office, motioning with one hand for her to sit down in her own chair. She frowned, brown eyes darkening in slight anger. He may be civil, but he was still a demanding snot.

“Malfoy why are you in my office?” she asked as she put her files away. Sitting, she adjusted herself in her seat until she was comfortable. She had a feeling they would be sitting here for a while.

“Uncomfortable?”

“Bad chair,” she told him.

“Get a new one then,” he frowned.

She leveled a stony glare at him. “I’ve asked, but whoever’s in charge of ordering new chairs for my department would rather spend their time—You know what, never mind.”

Malfoy quirked a brow at her but didn’t push the subject.

They stared at each other a moment longer, the awkward seconds ticking by, before he leaned forward and tapped one finger on a file on her desk. She hadn’t even noticed it was there.

“What are these?” Hermione asked, gingerly taking it in her hands, Malfoy didn’t stop her. What was inside were profiles of every Voldemort follower on record, including suspicious wizards and witches in general. Each page was accompanied by a moving mugshot, their anger lifting off the page. Even the deceased were listed, their status marked with a red X across their picture. She flipped until she reached Bellatrix Lestrange and, glancing quickly at Malfoy, closed the file.

He ignored her and kept on. “I had filing bring this to me. It may list the person who killed the muggle in the alley. I thought you might like to have a copy, just in case.”

Hermione was shocked—Malfoy had done her a kindness. It was strange. She narrowed her eyes unconsciously, there had to be an ulterior motive to this, right? It was bloody Draco Malfoy after all.

She nodded, “Yes, this helps me a lot actually. There’s no way I’m going to let Harry and Ron take care of this by themselves, intending to leave me on the sidelines. Idiots.”

Malfoy made a choking sound and when she looked up, he actually let out a little laugh. His features pulled as he smiled. It was perhaps the first time she’d heard him genuinely laugh, no malice in it. That was even stranger. An unhostile Malfoy was unknown to her, and she didn’t know how to handle it. The laughter stopped as soon as it had started, and he said smirking, “A busybody just like always, even with a threat against your life.”

She cracked a smile, as sudden as it was to herself, and returned with a sarcastic, “Just like the old days.”

“Indeed it is.” His smirk disappeared and his features darkened. It lasted for one tense moment, before he broke his trance and left that dark place. _Living in memories, huh Malfoy?_ Hermione chose to ignore it however, and instead thought of a question.

“May I ask you something?” She started carefully. “It might be out of line.” Malfoy looked at her suspiciously but nodded. “How is it that…Why didn’t you do it?”

“What?” He was clearly not understanding the question, which was expected, it had been four years after all.

“Dumbledore.” She said firmly. She locked a hard gaze on him, but he didn’t reveal any emotion besides his ever impervious stoic appearance.

“I do not kill Granger. Nor will I ever.” Simply put. No anger or sadness. Just stated as if it was any other topic of discussion.

He’s moved on with his life, she realized. And of course, why wouldn’t he? Slowly, she realized what he said made me feel respect for him. Before she could rankle internally at herself, he took over the conversation.

“Why weren’t you all buddy-buddy with Potty and the Weasel?” he suddenly asked, his tone accusing. He always had that quality about him, always commanding, always telling, never receiving. She wondered if he even noticed that about himself.

“What do you mean?” she breathed, busying her hands with the file.

Leaning forward, elbows on her desk, he smirked and said slyly, “Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Weasel didn’t spare you a glance, and Pothead hardly even acknowledged you. If we’re going to do this quizzing game after four years of fame and fortune, all our names headlining the papers, I expect you to answer my questions too.”

Hermione let out a dry laugh, “Your curiosity has amounted over the years has it, Malfoy?”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe.” The smirk widened making him a vague reflection of his father, though his features held joking and conniving rather than cruelty and hate. Briefly, she forgot what she was going to say. Suddenly Malfoy was staring so intently at her, his gaze so enthralled, she forgot herself. There was a sort of shared perverse giddiness at talking with an old enemy, a moment she didn’t want to pass up. It was too rare.

“I ended it with Ronald a year ago. And I’ve simply been too busy to see Harry and Ginny as much as I’ve wanted to.” That’s all he needed to know about it.

“Ginger still looks a bit peeved from my observations of earlier.” Why wouldn’t he let it drop?

“It’s awkward,” she finished simply, what else was she supposed to say about it? Explain to him how Ron’s aggression at the smallest things started to add up? That she caught him staring after pretty girls with a look in his eyes she knew all too well? That she just…lost it, lost what she felt for him, somewhere in the middle of it all?

Malfoy didn’t deserve that explanation.

“You’re a different person Malfoy,” she said instead. And he was, she could tell simply from the way he spoke. He seemed lighter now, happier than he’d been in school.

“People change, Granger, even a Malfoy,” he said, shrugging.

“Of course they do, I didn’t mean-”

“This isn’t school. I don’t believe all that shit about blood rights either. And don’t think it’s about your little project here at the Ministry. I haven’t since fourth year, really.” The way he spoke feigned nonchalance, but she knew he was trying to be serious. Sincere.

“Hm.”

He frowned. “That all you have to say? I was a right bloody prat to you, you have every right to scream every profanity at me you can think of, and all you say is _hm_?” He chuckled again, the same pleasant sound filling the small office. “I’d understand if you’d want to have a go at me. You do have a nasty right hook you know.”

Hermione laughed despite herself. “I wouldn’t want to have an injured body guard, that’d defeat the purpose. And this isn’t school anymore, I’d be written up for drawing blood.”

“It would defeat the purpose,” he hummed. “And you weren’t worried about that in school?”

She eyed him. “We had our way around the rules there, as you well know.”

His smile was wide. “That you did.” A pause, then, “I don’t know if you’d manage to draw blood again though. It has been a few years.”

“Are you suggesting I’m old?”

“If I suggested you were old, then I’d be calling myself old too.” He thought for a moment. “So…yes?”

Hermione shook her head on a scoff and waved her quill at him. “Well, for _old_ time’s sake then, maybe after this is all over I can give you one, on the house?”

“Ha, like that will ever happen!” But he was smiling as he said it.

They continued their calm banter for a while, not realizing how well they were getting along. Hermione hadn’t had an ear to talk off for quite a while, and Draco lacked an intelligent conversationalist in Astoria at home, and he rarely met with Blaise, so he found himself enjoying her company perhaps more than he wanted to. However, as long as this subtle peace existed between them, Hermione would not oppose to having him as her guard. They’d be spending a lot of time together, so it was better to ignore stupid childhood grudges and move on with their lives. He obviously had, and she had to learn to let it go, no matter how much she thought she already had.

Because this simple meeting was the start of something bigger than either of them knew.

\--

Draco had stayed longer than he thought he would in Granger’s office, a little too close to lunch. She’d been better company than he’d been expecting, gratefully accepting the file he’d brought for her. Actively returning his teasing.

Granger was actually…less annoying than he remembered. Her mess of hair didn’t make his eye twitch whenever its curls shifted on her shoulder. The tone of her voice was less grating. Seeing her smile and hearing her laugh, short-lived as it was, was no longer headache inducing. He wondered when that had changed, or if he just didn’t care as much as he used to. Maybe he’d succeeded in putting his past behind him even more than he thought he had.

But work had to be done, Granger had house elves to support, and he had a thieving girlfriend to deal with. If Draco knew one thing hadn’t changed, it was the prospect of Astoria giving him the surefire excuse to go to bed with a bottle of firewhiskey that night. He didn’t have to worry about Granger for the rest of the day, her stand-in Auror would be escorting her home tonight. Then Draco would take over from there. All he had to worry about was Astoria. He worked through lunch after a slightly awkward goodbye to Granger and powered on until six.

Draco mentally prepared himself for Astoria’s ridiculous chatting for when he arrived home. Did he really even want to go home to a begging, gold digging girlfriend? No. Did he want to have a glass of firewhiskey and a quick shag? Yes. He took a deep breath, once more for mental reinforcement, took a handful of the Ministry’s floo powder, and yelled his home address.

As the green flames erupted and delivered him into his living room, he saw the resplendent liquor cabinet directly across from him on the opposite wall. He shed himself of his work robes, leaving himself in just his white work shirt, and slacks. So far, no sign of Astoria. Maybe he’d be free of her tonight. He helped himself to a bottle of the delicious blazed taste of the whiskey and headed into his bedroom, kicking off his shoes and settling back on his plush bed.

He closed his eyes and sipped off the bottle, sighing happily. Content. This is what a full day of hard work and a nice quiet evening of liquor was like. Just perfection. It reminded him of his bachelor days, and he yearned for them. Despite enjoying having a steady amount of sex in his life, he didn’t particularly enjoy having Astoria around. She was a chatty, nonsensical, unabashed, flirty witch with a taste for money. He didn’t even consider it worth it with how much money he’d given to the relationship. Even his mother was starting to notice what a drag she was taking off of her son.

Should he end it?

Another swig.

Was it worth it?

Another swig, deeper this time.

“When did it get like this,” he asked aloud to the room in general.

It hadn’t always been like this. The last year had been the burnt end of something that used to be fun. At the start of it all, when Daphne had introduced them, he actually looked forward to seeing her. Now he had the kneejerk response to put a vanishing charm on his wallet whenever she seemed to grow bored and look around a room.

He knew he could do better.

But could he, was the question. He was Draco Malfoy. There was more infamy than fame behind that name, and he knew it. There was good reason for the hate attached there. He made use of it when he needed. He was proud he could be the civil man Granger had seen today _and_ be the prat when he needed to. He could be whatever people wanted him to be. It was something he’d become used to of late.

He had already swallowed whatever grief he had with Granger the moment he saw her in her office. It simply wasn’t worth it, especially with the job he was given. He _had_ to get along with her, and surprisingly it wasn’t hard. He liked talking with her today, although her questions were a little intrusive.

He could be intrusive too. He’d find out what made Granger tick—

Draco felt the effect of the whiskey hit him all at once, the heaviness, the heat spreading throughout his limbs pleasantly. That drunkenness hung over him like a glorious sun. He smiled and lazily turned himself over on his side, hoping to just be able to go straight to sleep without having to see Astoria at all after her little shopping trip. Sleeping through her incessant high pitched voice would prevent any headache. The firewhiskey aided beautifully.

However relief did not come soon enough to save him the misfortune of a true migraine as soon as he heard his front door open and slam back shut. He groaned, he didn’t want to deal with her. Or their problems. Or _his_ problems. Partly because he was now sodding drunk and he knew his patience was thin as it was, and partly because well…every other reason.

All too soon he saw the familiar beauty of the annoying entity that was Astoria. She was all smiles, already in the middle of a hyperactive retelling of her day when she saw him. Immediately her face dropped and she frowned at the sight of him. She stood there and pouted. Fucking _pouted_ at him.

He stared angrily up at her through his haze. In reality the whiskey was only half gone, but Draco had always been an easy drunk.

“Are you drunk, love?” she asked, a little too innocently. She knew what Drunk Draco looked like.

“I am indeed.”

“Well, I’ll save the story for tomorrow then.” Though after a beat, she continued on with it anyway. “You would not believe the kind of people I talked to today. Paris is _so_ interesting, Draco. Did you know that the store I went to had eighteen different kinds of magical leathers? And some changed colors depending on what type of magical inclination you had. And—” She was interrupted by the dull thud of the liquor bottle hitting the carpeted floor. He was asleep. A stubborn scowl on his face, but still sleeping.

\--

Astoria shook her head, bemused by her lover. She touched his cheek, admiring his beauty, thinking how adorable he was when he slept, all that anger and Malfoy pride swept from his face. Moving her hand, she swept the hair from his eyes and let it fall back to where it had been.

“Night, hun,” she whispered as she kissed his forehead. Waving her wand, she draped a blanket over his sleeping form. After she undressed and brushed her hair, she settled in behind him, a hand around his waist. He unconsciously settled back against her even in sleep.

Astoria loved moments like these.

Before she drifted asleep, she envisioned a grand ball in her mind. A dinner party like the sacred families used to throw, before everything. It would be beautiful. She was sure he’d be excited at the prospect, as much as Narcissa would be. And Draco had the money for it.

She loved money perhaps, even more.

\--

Somewhere from the murk of his dreams there dredged a familiar voice. The annoying pitch drew him from his slumber, and he was not happy to leave it. Draco angled his face towards it, that was curiously whispering his name in his ear. Astoria.

Slowly, as her whispers continued, her hand snaked down over his waistband. She nudged the edge of her fingertips underneath and her intentions were clear to him finally through his still hazy mind. He had never been a hard drinker.

In any other situation this would have turned him on, but at the moment her attempts at seduction were just annoying.

Draco pushed her hand away and sat up cautiously, minding the fact he might be likely to vomit whatever was left in his stomach. Astoria frowned and kneeled behind him, snaking her hands down his chest, again in an attempt at seducing him. Didn’t she get it?

Draco stood and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Astoria would just have to deal without sex. He simply had too much on his mind.

He stripped down to nothing and entered the shower, turning the water to somewhere just south of too cold.

As the water cascaded over his body, clearing what it could of his hang over, he vaguely remembered he had to meet Granger this morning to escort her to work. He’d have to discuss a possible shift change with the Auror when they arrived at the Ministry. He doubted this would be a viable routine for however long it took to catch the killer. Maybe he shouldn’t drink on work nights anymore.

From somewhere outside the bathroom he heard the unmistakable rummaging of Astoria.

Groaning in annoyance, Draco pushed himself out of the shower and into a towel and out the door, water still dripping off his skin.

Just as he’d thought, Astoria had his wallet. She also had a bag on the floor by her feet, fancy French lettering on the sides. She spared him a cold glance but continued on.

“What are you doing Astoria?” he asked, tone narrow. His patience was thin as it was, and Astoria was on his last nerve.

“Counting,” she sneered.

He walked over and took back his money from her, shoving it back in his charmed wallet. She still managed to pocket two galleons for her trouble. She made an affronted huff and looked up at him through dark hair, her eyes begging. He’d seen that look before, and had fallen for it one too many times.

It was time he took control of this relationship, if he could even call it that.

“No more money. You have plenty from your own family, and you can get a decent job if you want more. But no more of this stealing from me.”

“I’m not stealing, love,” she pouted, resting her hands on his naked chest.

“Going through my things and removing money from my wallet is stealing Astoria. Maybe you need a refresher on the definition.”

She reached up and pressed her lips against his ear, sucking lightly and biting gently. She whispered, “But I’m practically a Malfoy by now, what’s yours is mine, love.” She trailed her lips from his ear to his jaw to his lips. He didn’t return it. She pouted again, but reattached her searching lips to his neck.

“Astoria. Stop.”

“No,” she said, sucking his collar bone.

Draco felt an unwanted ache. Squeezing his eyes shut, he grabbed her waist and pulled her against him, grinding his hips into hers. She moaned pleasantly.

“No more money from me,” he huffed out, trying to concentrate on the feeling of her against him and nothing else.

“No more,” she agreed breathlessly.

It went on like that for a while before Draco finally realized what he was doing.

“Fuck!” He shouted. He grabbed her shoulders and shoved her away. She stumbled back and caught her footing. She was glaring now, all business as she smoothed out her skirt. She didn’t seem bothered in the least, that look of cold disappointment, petulant in the face of refusal.

He made his decision.

Grabbing his wand, he magicked his clothes to him, dressing quickly. A quick drying charm left his hair dry, though annoyingly fluffy. Astoria just moved to lie back in bed. She rested herself up on her elbows and watched him as if bored with the whole thing.

“No more fucking money, Astoria.”

“I already said-”

“We both know that was a lie,” he snapped at her.

She said nothing. It was the truth.

“I only wanted to throw a ball.”

“Only? That takes a lot. And besides I can’t keep giving you my paychecks, I do have to sustain my existence as well.”

“You have the Malfoy vault, so _no_ , you don’t.” He glowered at her, but he pressed on. “Not really. Of course, if I just-”

“No.” Draco leveled a hard glare at her. He was serious about this. “No more money or this can’t continue.”

Astoria’s eyes teared up instantly, an automatic reaction to whenever he threatened to end it.

“Draco, I-I…I don’t want to end it.”  Tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. She shot up in bed and gripped her hands together.

“Maybe I do,” he muttered darkly.

As he headed for the fireplace and called out Granger’s address, he could hear Astoria’s haunting sobs from his bedroom.

He felt better than he had in a long while.

\--

Hermione was startled as she heard her fireplace roar to life, the green flames revealing the form of a very ruffled Malfoy. He was different, his hair was rising in all directions, and his eyes were cold. He looked like he just woke up from a bad dream.

“You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday,” she remarked.

Malfoy didn’t answer her and instead busied himself with smoothing down his robes and tie.

She thanked Merlin she was ready for work already, dressed in a dark grey work dress with simple black robes tied at the neck.

Draco appraised her home much the same way he had when he first saw her yesterday at the meeting in the Ministry. He seemed nonplussed at the sight of her muggle TV and magazines spread out on her coffee table, the images firmly set in their place. He surely was expecting them to start moving on their own.

“What’s that?” he asked finally, pointing at her TV.

“It’s a television. It has moving pictures inside it with sounds that tell a story.” This is how she had explained it to Ron the first time he’d been to her house, one of the only muggle items that his father lacked.

He nodded and glanced around her living room once more before he looked at her and smirked, taking in her hair, “You seem ready, let’s go.”

“Right, let me just get my files.” She wondered at why he looked such a mess today. On the off chance she ran across him at work he’d always looked very well put together. She wandered to her bedroom and gathered her briefcase, turning to find Malfoy in her bedroom doorway. A mental check reminded her she had no clothes lying about where they shouldn’t be. Something Ron used to tease her about.

“God awful use of colors Granger, but I guess it can’t be helped, you were never one for design.” His eyes roamed slowly over her outfit next and she fought down the urge to squirm. Her bedroom was an array of warm browns and oranges, she thought it looked nice. And she loved this dress!

She frowned. “Well not everyone is so up to date with today’s styles as much as you are Malfoy, just look at that hair. Who’s your stylist? A porcupine?”

His smirk relaxed into a small smile, the coldness finally leaving his eyes. “I was actually thinking of contacting yours, whoever it is seems to have the _jungle bush_ style down.”

“Oh, I’m _so_ proud to have gained your approval. I can finally die happy.” She stepped into his space, but he didn’t budge an inch. “But not before I give you their card, of course.” She moved past him into the living room, heading to the fireplace. “And fix your hair,” she shot back over her shoulder.

Draco tried to tame his smile. He was already in a better mood. He entered the fireplace with her, calling out the address of the Ministry.

Today would be a good day.


	3. Chapter 3

When they emerged from the green flames, he noticed Granger looking out at the rushing Ministry employees while she fussed with her sleeves. She seemed nervous.

He watched her shimmy the hem of her dress down, smooth her robes, fiddle her sleeves up to the elbows and back down again before huffing and balling her fists up.

“I highly doubt they notice us together, let alone at all,” he muttered to her. She didn’t seem to hear him. “You’re fine,” he insisted, softer. She blinked up at him, clearly suspicious.

“We meet the Auror in my office this morning, apparently,” Granger said suddenly. With a final fretful look around the entrance, she started steadfast towards the lifts.

“Thank you, Draco, thank you so much for the compliment, Draco. You look fine too,” he muttered to himself as he hurried after her.

The lifts were thankfully empty. Granger seemed to calm on the ride up to her floor. It was a short walk to her small office, an even shorter wait for the Auror, who was rather plainly named Paul. The man was tall, well built with curly brown hair that fell around his face. He talked in a dull manner, befitting everything else about him. Draco regarded him with a stale air, not really wanting to discuss babysitting times. That’s what it felt like for him, he wondered how Granger thought of it, being watched. Draco would have been revolted at just the thought of it if it was him in this situation.

Paul spoke in that same lifeless tone as when he’d greeted them, “I assume you will floo with her in the morning now?”

Draco went over possible obscurities in his schedule. Granger and he arrived at the same time anyway for work, and he suspected things with Astoria wouldn’t last much longer. There would be no variance there. He was free as far as he was concerned. He nodded and said, “I’ll simply floo her every morning then? What about lunch?”

Hermione made an awful gagging sound at that and pinned an affronted look on him, “I hardly need a guard at _lunch_. I eat in my office usually anyway.” Draco rolled his eyes; of course the bookworm ate lunch in her office.

Paul spoke up, “If you do indeed decide to leave work for lunch then you contact either of us, I still would recommend one of us or a friend eat with you.” As for after work I’ll escort her home, should you be busy. I’m only here to fill in the gaps. I’ll set up wards today; I’ll require both of your help, naturally. I’ll collect you both on the main floor after lunch.” He shot them a strange curling of his lip, and it took a moment for Draco to realize it must be his attempt at a smile. He sneered back at him, casting as much insincerity into it as he could. Granger’s lips quirked up despite herself, though she hid it behind a sly move of her hand.

Paul left her office, leaving them alone once more.

Draco turned to her, the height difference making her tilt her head back to meet his eyes. She said defiantly, “Don’t worry. I won’t make you eat your meals with the mudblood.” And although she had said it with a laugh, Draco cringed at the word. He hadn’t ever heard her use it before. It didn’t sound right. She seemed to notice his silence and rambled on. “I often work through my lunch anyway, so no skin off my bones.”

“Well, I guess that’s a good thing then,” he told her, not quite understanding what she meant. He figured it was a muggle thing.

Then the awkwardness was back, dragging out for longer than either of them preferred. Being the clever Slytherin that he was, Draco ended it by saying, “Perhaps we should today, work through it I mean. We’ll have to meet the Auror, dud that he is, to set up wards at your house besides.”

“He is a bit plain isn’t he? I’ll be lucky if I don’t die from boredom, never mind the possible wizards after me.” Her eyes went lackluster for a moment, but she hid it well in the smile she wore. Draco didn’t think much of it. He knew what it was like to have people hunting you down, and he knew she was as used to it as he was, back in the last year of when they were supposed to be in school.

The thought of her four years ago, face scratched and bloody, hands shaking in the ruins of the great hall came to mind. He pushed the memory down and fought to bring the levity back to his voice. She was trying so he’d try to, if only to make this bearable.

“Though he is an annoying idiot, Weasel won’t let that happen. Potter will barely be able to hold him back from jumping to your rescue what with those puny arms of his.”

“Harry is lean, not puny, and Ron isn’t an idiot…mostly. I doubt those initials were mine in the first place, though a muggle murdered by a wizard is a very serious matter. Whoever did such a horrible thing will be caught, though.” She said it confidently, proud of her friends, albeit obviously distant these days. Draco scoffed at her tone though it amazed him she could have such pride in two dimwits like Potter and Weasley. They would likely be too headstrong to see clearly when it came to one of their own.

Draco was more competent than the two of them combined, and—and he didn’t really know where he was going with that thought. He was more than capable of protecting her. His schedule was clear. There was nothing standing between him and her besides an old feud he’d long ago decided was pointless.

So why was he suddenly nervous thinking about it?

“I’ll see you later Granger.” With a faint nod he turned and left her office, closing the door gently behind him. He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking about how this case would turn out.

If she was indeed the target, which he had a gut feeling she was, then they both had bigger problems to worry about.

\--

Hermione was flipping through the files Malfoy had given her for a little over ten minutes when Harry walked in, closing the door halfway behind him. She tried to slip it closed before sliding it beneath thicker, less conspicuous S.P.E.W. case files to her left. At the look he was giving her, she knew he hadn’t missed it and likely had some idea what she was up to. Hermione noticed the shift in his posture and was grateful when he didn’t ask about it. She motioned with one hand for him to sit, and he took the chair in front of her desk.

“Harry, has something happened with the case?”

He shook his head. “No, unfortunately. I have Ron working with a team of specialists on the scene examining any traces of magic left, though so far there hasn’t been much other than what we already found.”

Hermione voiced what she had been wondering since this whole mess started, “Was it dark magic, Harry?”

The way his face fell just slightly answered her question before he opened his mouth. “It was.” Harry reached a hand out over the short space between them to grab hers. He squeezed her fingers. She tried her best to look unbothered by the news. It only served to further confirm the possibility of her being the _H.G._ on the note.

“I actually came for something else,” he said, withdrawing his hand.

She shifted in her seat. “Oh?”

The mood lightened considerably when Harry smiled. “I came here to invite you to a lunch with Ginny and I this weekend. We have an announcement. Most everyone will be there!”

Hermione’s wonderings about what exactly the announcement could be were sidelined when she realized what _everyone_ meant. “Who is everyone exactly?”

“The Weasley’s. Well most of them anyway…I’m inviting a few friends from the old days, and a few around work. You’re free to invite anyone you want as well.” Harry’s voice lowered at the end, pointedly leaving out one unavoidable detail.

“You mean Malfoy?” she offered, her brown eyes narrowing. She leaned back in her chair, folded her arms.

Harry shifted in his seat, eyes turning pleading. “’Mione, you know it’s mandatory he be with you when you’re outside of work and your flat. Ginny and I want you to be there, and as your friend and as it’s my job, I want you to be safe. It’s just until this case is solved.”

She pointed an accusing finger at him. “That’s very easy for you to say, but in practice, for me, it’s a little hard. And I know you know exactly what I’m talking about, Harry Potter.”

He leaned forward in his seat and his eyes were doing that cute _I’m the boy who lived_ thing she knew he used to get an extra shot of espresso when he grabbed coffee at lunch.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine being surrounded by a bunch of wizards and witches, and more than a few Aurors. Malfoy hardly needs to be there to babysit. I doubt anyone would try anything with so many around, especially with you there. I’m just wondering what Ron will do.”

“I’ll keep an eye on Ron. He knows the situation.”

“Harry,” she pleaded, trying one last time.

Harry sighed, “It has to be this way, I don’t want to risk anything. Your safety is the most important thing right now. I won’t lose another friend,” he said, voice hard. She sighed as he smoothed a hand over his robes. “Until this all settles down the two of you are going to have to get along with each other. I thought things were better now?”

Hermione made a noise in the back of her throat. “They are. But he’s still a Malfoy. No matter what he says or does _now_ doesn’t erase all the years of torment he put me through. We’re walking on eggshells with each other as it is, and the fact I can’t even walk outside alone by myself will eventually stop being so… _novel_.”

Harry chuckled and said, “It’s already been a full day and a half and you two are still alive. You’ll butt heads eventually, you butt heads with everyone.” He offered her a shrug. “But I think he’s changed since the war. We all have.”

Hermione turned thoughtful, knowing no one who went through what they did left unchanged. “I suppose he has.”

Harry hesitated slightly before saying, “Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Moved on? Let go?” He said, cautiously eyeing her.

Hermione answered truthfully. “Honestly, it’s been almost easy getting along with him. I learned a long time ago it’s better to move on instead of dwell.” Suddenly she could hear every breath she took, feeling too loud. “Ron taught me that, after what we went through. The past is the past even for Malfoy, so I’m grateful for that. But I guess I won’t know until something happens. I know he’s still a git underneath all that pomp.”

“Pomp tends to lead to git. If he does anything, I’ll get Ron to beat the ferret out of him, I’m Harry Potter after all, I can do that.” He smiled cockily and wagged his eyebrows at her. Harry always knew what to say to make her feel like the world wasn’t balancing on her shoulders.

She leaned back in her chair, blinking at the ceiling. After a long sigh, she slumped in her seat. “I just hope this is over soon. Before anything worse happens.” Harry nodded, looked at the place where Malfoy’s file was sticking out beneath all the others. “Malfoy gave me a list of names of possible suspects. Victims. I’m going through it, seeing if there’s any clues. Any other people with the initials of H.G.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “Just like the Hermione I know and love. It’s fine with me if you go over names but remember no field work.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if my body guard would _ever_ allow fieldtrips.”

Harry chuckled as he rose from his seat, saying, “I’ll tell Ginny to expect you and Malfoy this weekend. I’ll owl you the time tonight.”

Her smile faded as he left the room with a little wave.

Hermione sat in silence, trying to picture an entire afternoon at the Weasley’s with Malfoy following her every move. She wrinkled her nose thinking about it. After a while she began to pour over the list of names she’d already memorized. She circled everyone with the initials of _H.G._ as she went with a red marker. There were so few. She was determined to finish this before lunch so she’d have something to discuss with Malfoy.

She wasn’t sure how much longer this peace between them would last, so better to have a productive meeting than one where the past could come up.

\--

The pleasant hum he’d had vanished as soon as he entered his own office. Strangely, as soon as Granger was out of his sight his mind had gone directly to Astoria and the mess they were currently in. Teasing Granger took his mind off his private life, a relief in a way. If guarding Granger made him forget Astoria if even for a second, he was perfectly happy with his new job.

But now his migraine was coming back. He was alone in his office, staring at annoyingly neat stacks of files and papers, a bookshelf so tediously organized he wondered how he hadn’t disliked it before now. A clean and perfectly organized office was so deep in contrast to his life he didn’t think he’d be able to stand looking at it much longer.

He buried his face in his hands until he saw stars, tiny pin pricks of white and grey dancing around behind his closed lids.

He needed to end things with her. Astoria was going above and beyond with the spending and even though he had more than enough to live off of from his family vault, his money was his alone. He earned it. It wasn’t his father’s or his mother’s. Astoria had shown on more than one occasion that she didn’t care, and lately was only with him for his money.

Any affection he’d felt for her before had gone away, around the fifth or sixth time his wallet had too. As Theo had once so elegantly put, _There’s only so much someone can give before you’re wasted and shagging random chicks you don’t even know._ Draco had been there before and he really had no desire to go there again. It was better to move on before things got even worse than they already were.

So, tonight. He’d go home, and end things between them. His mother wouldn’t be happy about it, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

He stared at his bookcase. Tried to take a step towards his desk, where he knew the new day’s work would be. He had mail to open. He had meetings.

Draco turned back around and heading for the array of floos lining the Ministry’s entrance.

He would do it now. It was better for both of them and ending things after work would likely mean hours of fighting and a sleepless night. She had her entire pureblooded family to fall back on if she needed money, and she knew that full well.

He was greeted by Astoria sitting on his bed, reading. This he was surprised to see. Astoria never read, at least not in front of him. He locked eyes with her and watched as she sat the book down, cover up on the bed sheets in front of her. _Party Planning, Witch’s Guide to Elegant Banquets_. Really?

He could tell from the subtle sadness and resolve in her eyes that she had a hint of why he was here when he should have been working.

His voice was steady when he told her, “Get out.”

At her affronted look and choked sob he waved his hand at her ‘book’, “I can’t keep letting you steal from me. Yes, it’s stealing Astoria. My money is my own, and you have your family’s. And if you’re going to say you’ll stop one minute and then go and pick up a damned _party-planning_ book the next there’s no point in arguing with you anymore. It’s done. I’m not going to put up with it anymore.”

Astoria’s puffy eyes had swelled again with tears, brimming over the edges and spilling too easily down her cheeks. She was a quick crier. This had been coming for a long time. A good cry and a few hundred galleons would cheer her up and she’d be back to normal in no time. He just needed her out of his life, as soon as possible.

“Astoria, I need you to gather your things and leave,” he told her, taking a step back when she sat up on the edge of the bed.

She let out another sob and said, shakily, “Y-you’re breaking up with me, Draco?”

Holding his arms out, he shrugged. “I thought that was clear.”

More sobs and her hands fisted in his sheets in rage and sadness, “D-Draco, we w-were going to get m-married! How can you b-break up with me?”

He ignored the marriage comment, not once had he ever brought that up. Narcissa probably put that in her head. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been together for a reason besides sex and money. I’m just sorry I didn’t realize it earlier.” He felt calm, even when faced with her dramatics. She was acting like a child.

“I loved you.” Her voice steadied, and she said it so fearfully final, eyes full of anger now. She stood and gathered the book in her hands, threw it at his chest and locked eyes with him as it fell to the floor in a flutter of pages.

Draco didn’t budge. After a breath he steeled his voice, “I want you moved out before I get off work.”

He didn’t miss the way a sneer stole across her face. There was hate in her eyes, and he didn’t recognize the Astoria he’d once wanted so badly at the start of all this anywhere in them.

As Draco headed to the floo, throwing the fistful of powder in, he ignored how Astoria stomped after him. Tried not to focus on the way the green flames made the shape of her flicker and fade before whisking him away.


	4. Chapter 4

It had only been an hour since she’d begun narrowing down the possible victims. There were only two other who shared her initials, and seeing how one was already dead and the other was a squib, it was very unlikely either were the primary target.

The very real possibility that it could actually be _her_ started to sink in. Someone was threatening her. Who could she trust besides Harry, Ron, and despite her misgivings, Malfoy? The only upside to the revelation was that there’d hopefully be no other victims. Whoever it was that wanted her hurt, or worse, would come for her alone.

She had a handful of names circled in the suspects pile. All former death eaters and known anti-muggle wizards and witches. Everyone who had ever expressed anything upwards of hate towards her. The people she’d pissed off during the war. She’d pass both lists off to Harry and Malfoy when she saw them next.

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was nearly lunchtime. She mentally went over anything else she had to do, but aside from the usual scuffles between someone who wanted their house elf back after accidentally gifting them clothing—which was often easily and quickly resolved with a quick filing into the _Re: Nothing Can Legally Help You, You Prat_ pile—there was nothing. Besides, she was too distracted with thoughts of who could be after her to focus on much else.

Malfoy would be there to meet her soon, too. An hour alone with Malfoy with nothing but a handful of names to discuss? That wasn’t what Hermione would call productive, least of all time consuming. What would they talk about after that was out of the way? Banter only stretched so far. Maybe the hour would go by quickly, or there’d be something new about the case to discuss on his end. Or maybe Paul would need them early.

She could only hope.

\--

Draco flooed back to the Ministry with a light air about him. His lips curled as he walked the newly familiar path to Granger’s office. He opened the door without knocking, knowing she’d be expecting him. What welcomed him was a strange look from Granger, her lips twisted in an odd way, her eyebrows raised as if she was surprised to see him in the first place.

He was right on time, wasn’t he?

Draco closed the door behind him, sat down in the chair in front of her desk. He looked at her questioningly. “What’s wrong, Granger? Were you not expecting I’d actually come?”

She seemed to snap out of whatever had come upon her, throwing a weak smile at him. “No, just thought you’d be fashionably late or something, whatever you Malfoy’s do.”

He chuckled. “You’ll find I’m very exact on time Granger. When I say I’ll be there for something, I’ll be there.”

She smiled very faintly at that, the irony clear in her tone. “Good to know.”

“Hm.” Her tone was light, but he could tell something was off. “Well, I see you’ve put the file I gave you to good use. Anything come of it?” he asked, blond hair sweeping over his eyes as he leaned towards her.

Granger reached her arms out, placed her hands over the two piles and spread out the papers for him to see. Her handiwork was comprised of neat red circles of names. She then brought up a sheet of paper with a list of _victims_ and a list of _suspects_. There was only one name on _victims_ , written next to it was the note of _squib_. And the suspects list wasn’t much better.

He met her eyes. “The only other possible victim is a squib named Herald Gregory?” She nodded. He raised a brow. “I hardly think he’d be a target. Squibs lead normal muggle lives most of the time. Do we know if he’s even in Wizarding London?”

She shook her head no, eyes focused on the paper now. On her hands. She moved her thumb nervously. Draco wanted to reach out and stop her, it was making him anxious.

He fought the urge down, busied his hands with shuffling the papers around.

“Looks like I just became a full-time babysitter.” He smirked, but she just sighed. “Granger?” Draco leaned back slight and asked her, “Are you alright?”

“I just want this person to be found so I can get on with my life. I’ve been through enough shit the past few years. I think I deserve a bit of peace, don’t you think?”

She meant it rhetorically but he answered anyway, “Yes, you do.” She gave him a thoughtful smile at his answer, but it fell away too soon.

Granger scratched a hand through the curls at her temple, swiping them behind her shoulder before changing the subject.

“So, you seem happy today?” she commented, obviously changing the subject. She grabbed up the file and shoved it away in a drawer, slamming it shut a little too hard.

Draco’s thoughts flew to Astoria, how he’d be happy to go home to an empty house for once. “Yes, I am. Does that surprise you?”

“Just wondering what happened is all. This morning when you came to my house you were quite angry.”

“I was.”

“Hm.” She nodded and looked away, fighting to distract her curious eyes with anything other than his face. He knew that look from their school days when she was itching to drill one of their professors with a dozen questions.

Draco raised a brow and felt compelled to give her an explanation, though he didn’t really understand why. He decided to humor her.

“I just broke up with my girlfriend.”

She met his eyes so fast he thought she’d gotten whiplash. Her eyes went wide, her mouth was a steady line. The surprise in voice was palpable, “Astoria Greengrass?”

He wasn’t surprised she knew; they’d been on the cover of _Witch Weekly_ before. Draco’s love life was a popular gossip column for Rita Skeeter these days. Skeeter would have a ball when she discovered they’d broken up.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy,” she said, voice soft.

Draco almost laughed. Her confused expression caused a smirk and he explained, “No, no need to be sorry, of all things. She wanted my money. I ended it. End of story.”

His lightness of the topic made her relax a little about it. “That certainly sounds like an unhealthy relationship.”

“It was.”

Granger shifted in her seat. She felt awkward, he realized.

“Probably good you ended it then.”

He said, “Probably? Best thing I’ve done in ages.”

“Good.”

More shifting. Settling with a squeeze of chair leather. More shifting. Awkward, awkward, awkward.

“I only said probably because I was thinking of Ron.” Her burst of laughter then was rushed. “Well, I mean, you know—you probably read the papers. I’m just saying I know, I get it. Because of Ron.” She gulped a huge breath of air and sank back in her seat, shaking her head at herself.

Draco just watched her. Why was she acting so strange? They’d been getting on fine so far.

“Relax, Granger.” A pause, then, “Ron’s a bloody fool who couldn’t hold on to what’s good for him if it gave him the land, sea, and sky. And if what the magazines said were true, you had.”

She looked startled at what he’d said, but he meant it. He didn’t like the Weasel at all, much less than he ever thought he didn’t like her.

And from the way she looked at him, the way she slowly cracked a grin and started to laugh, he realized he actually liked Granger. That she wasn’t what he had convinced himself she was all those years at school. He really had been awful to her in those days.

Draco returned her laughter with a grin of his own. Her cheeks were pleasantly flushed when she smoothed a hand through her curls and seemed to finally relax.

He’d try to make up for those years now when there was still time to right his wrongs. Thankfully, Granger seemed willing to let him.

\--

Paul entered Hermione Granger’s office to find both her and Draco Malfoy recovering from what seemed like laughing with one another. He knew a bit about the both of them from the tabloids. Draco Malfoy never seemed one much up for laughing and Hermione Granger seemed business oriented, so much so that you didn’t expect her to socialize.

And because Paul was simply Paul, he never speculated much about these things, he did his job and that was what mattered. And right now his job was to set up wards to protect Hermione Granger.

\--

Malfoy’s laugh died off as soon as he caught sight of the boring entity that was Paul the Auror. The large man blocked most of her doorway as he stood there with his hand on the knob, a seriousness about his plain face. She didn’t bother bringing the file up. She would officially hand over what she’d found to Harry at his party this weekend. She wondered what Malfoy would tell him.

Assuming Malfoy agreed to go with her, once she brought it up to him.

She cast a quick glance at the stoic blond and found he was looking at her with those steady grey eyes, obviously not missing the way she didn’t bring the file to Paul’s attention. He smirked when he caught her staring. With a frown, she stood.

Malfoy _had_ to be there, he was _her_ guard after all. He pretty much had to follow wherever she went. Just then a wicked thought occurred in the brilliant mind she so cherished.

She could have fun with this.

Though right now was not the time for contemplating ways of annoying Malfoy, now was the time to ward her house so no one could get in, save for her, Malfoy, and Harry. She highly doubted Ron would barge into her flat before owling her, no matter how dire the situation with how he was acting these days.

She said, “I suppose we better get going. This could take all afternoon, right?”

Paul replied a solid, “Yes. Wards can be tricky, and as an Auror I will be creating as many complex ones as I am able to. And whatever wards you two can come up with are even better. I’m sure we will get through this.”

Malfoy made a face at her at Paul’s tone from where he still sat, and she shot him a look. With a smirk he pulled himself out of his seat.

“And I will have sole access to these wards, as I was told?” Draco suddenly said, standing next to her in the office. Her mind raced, why _only_ him? Why had no one told her?

Paul nodded. “And Hermione of course. In the afternoon I will simply be dropping her off at her home, but as agreed you will be arriving for her in the mornings via her own floo, which is located in her house.” He looked at Hermione, “Correct?”

Malfoy interjected, “Actually I’ll be free to do so. My schedule cleared as of this morning.”

She could only nod. Better to accept it now then argue futilely over it. That and she knew it was only for the duration of the case. Only until it was solved. That wouldn’t be long at all. Harry was a good leader and a smart man, and she trusted his abilities to hunt down a killer when he needed to.

But even so, it was _Malfoy_ , in her _home_ …every morning, every afternoon. It was an invasion of her personal space, but she’d work with it. She could do that. She’d just need to set some very strict ground rules. Things would be fine.

It would be fine.

\--

The wards _were_ complex. Hermione hadn’t even heard of half of them when Paul was listing them off as she toured them through her flat. Malfoy trailed along silently behind, appraising every room, every detail of her home. Her life. He never said a word, smirked on occasion, and set up specific wards where Paul wanted them with seeming ease. She assumed the ones she didn’t know were taught specifically to Aurors, and decided she’d save badgering Malfoy to teach her them at some point for later.

A part of it was no familiars could have access to her home, even if she knew them and considered them her friends. They’d have to get through her and Malfoy’s appraisal before being allowed to enter her home. Hermione quite liked this one, but it was obvious what a toll that took on Malfoy’s newly acquired free time. Whenever she would be expecting a visitor, he’d have to stay there long enough to grant them access to her home. She knew she’d be annoyed if she had to do the same for him at his home. Though the only sign of his discomfort at the idea had been a small flex in his jaw.

She took them to her bedroom first to get it over with. This one had the heaviest wards. Being safe while she slept was her top priority. Malfoy stepped carefully around her things with a respect she hadn’t expected from him. Next was her small study with its single quaint bookcase, overflowing with reading material, muggle and magical, and its small desk containing papers and her laptop that Malfoy cocked an eyebrow at when he saw it. She gave him a look that she hoped said _I’ll explain later_ and walked on to the bathroom. Then the kitchen, with its mix muggle appliances Malfoy seemed endlessly curious about. She wondered if he’d ever even been in a kitchen in his life. There was a small table for two against the wall with a single chair pulled up to it. Then the living room. The last was the entirety of the house, which Paul went outside to set up by himself. Hermione and Malfoy had been instructed to stay inside and set up whatever they thought would be helpful, but that didn’t contradict what he and Malfoy had already established.

They were currently standing in much the same spot as they had this morning when he’d arrived at her house, practically fuming. He still looked around as if dedicating it to memory. She went to bathroom again.

Once she was done setting up a locking spell, she came back to a certain missing blond. She searched around until she found Malfoy in the door of her bedroom. Again.

“Malfoy, you sure are fixated on my room. What’s wrong with it this time?” She crossed her arms behind him in the doorway, watching as he turned and looked down at her. He had his wand stretched out in from of him.

“I was setting up another protective charm,” he said in all seriousness.

She changed her tone as well, regarding him carefully. “What kind?”

“Something to prevent your sheets from tangling, or pillows being transfigured.”

She couldn’t possibly fathom why. “What for?”

He gave her a leveled stare. He lowered his voice dramatically, “I’ve seen some pretty horrid things, Granger.” He stared at her another minute before he brushed past her and into the study. Hermione didn’t really register he was making a joke until she heard laughter trailing off. With a huff she followed after him.

Standing in front of her desk, Malfoy eyed her computer like it was a strange new beast. He threw a thumb at it and asked, “Now, what the bloody hell is this thing?”

“My laptop.” A blank stare. “It’s like a…um…It’s like a filing system with an unlimited number of files in one space. Then you have websites, um, places you visit and they have different things you can do on them. Like news or video. Video is like the television I was explaining earlier.”

He raised a blond brow, perfectly arched. “Whatever you say Granger.”

“I’ll show you some time, if you like.” He nodded at that. She hummed and Malfoy looked at her oddly again. “Harry invited me to a party this weekend. I’m going.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

Malfoy looked at her computer again, sat in her chair, “I know I have to follow you around everywhere, might as well get used to it while I have the chance, right?”

Hermione nodded appreciatively. “Right.”

“When is it?”

“Oh, he’s going to owl me the exact time later. I know it’s this weekend.”

“I’m assuming the Weasel will be attending,” he said, blond hair falling over his eyes as he bent over her laptop, examining it.

“Yes. Which will be awkward to say the least.”

“He’d rather be the one guarding you.”

“Well I’d rather he not be. He’s stuck on something that no longer exists between us and if he were the one to have to _babysit_ me, then I think I’d honestly have more trouble with it.

Malfoy seemed surprised to hear that. “I must be losing my touch then, if I haven’t thoroughly deterred you.” A smirk curled his lips.

“Oh you’re quite bearable surprisingly. I’m a bit in shock about it I think, how well we’re getting on with each other. Strange, considering all those years in school.”

He looked down, “Yeah. Granger…look I’m—” He frowned. “It’s surreal.”

She could only guess what it was he was going to say but didn’t push it. “Very. I think it’s just because we’re on our best behavior with each other right now. Once we spend some real time together, we’ll probably be full on hexing each other.”

Malfoy let out a small snort at that and raised a brow at her. “It’ll be just like the old days.”

Hermione went so far as to elbow him in his side. He made a sound close to a squawk before huffing out a laugh. She rolled her eyes and left the doorway. He stood and followed her as she turned into the hall. “So, you read the articles about Ron and me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” she asked, stopping just before she entered into the sight of the front door. Draco stopped and leaned against the opposite wall.

“Whatever news floated around you three I heard whether I wanted to or not. I ended up reading various articles on all three of you. Astoria and my mother would bring it up. But it was being shoved in my face with Skeeter’s goons after the war too. Astoria just wanted a fellow gossip.” He curled his lip at that.

“Astoria was a major part of your life wasn’t she?” Hermione crossed her arms, leaned back on the arm of her couch.

He shrugged, “She was, but not in a good way. Not for the most part at least.”

“For the most part?” She raised her own brow.

“Sex was great. Knew how to throw a party and spend money, but that was about it.” He seemed amused at the turn in conversation.

Hermione wasn’t fazed. “A pretty face and great shag aren’t always what makes a relationship thrive. Though you don’t seem bothered by it at all.”

Malfoy stepped away from the wall, took a step closer. “Now Granger, are you my therapist all of a sudden?”

She frowned, glaring his way. “No, habit. If I’d been asked questions, I’d have moved on from Ron a lot faster than I did. You seem happy is all. That’s good, Malfoy. It’s…good to see you smile so much.”

His gaze dropped to the floor for a long moment before finally trailing, slowly, back up her body to her face. “It is good.” A muscle twitched in his jaw before he said, “Though you might want to be careful Granger.” A step closer and he was right before her, smirking wickedly. “I might just rebound, and you’re the only beautiful woman I’ll be seeing on a regular basis.” He leaned in close, grey eyes clear and bright.

Hermione felt her eyes go wide, her palms sweat, too shocked to say anything.

Malfoy straightened up completely, smirk firmly in place as he turned around, heading outside to where Paul seemed determined to ward her house off completely. Hermione glared at the empty space before her, a little put off by his teasing and followed him to the front yard.

She didn’t exactly know how to handle a flirtatious Draco Malfoy.

Before she reached the front door she stopped in her tracks, realizing something.

Had he just called her beautiful?

\--

The target was Hermione. There was no longer any doubt. Harry knew undeniable evidence when he saw it. And this…anyone who saw it would know.

The name of one of his oldest friends, carved into the chest of a second body. Blood still seeping fresh out of the wound.

Now he had something solid to go by. Malfoy would have to practically glue himself to Hermione as far as he was concerned. Harry would be there himself protecting her, right along with Ron, but they had a job to do. A killer to catch.

He needed those files Hermione had. If they held the answer, she would have most likely picked up on it. It was Hermione after all; she had always been the smart one. If she wasn’t the target in the first place, he’d have her right here with him. There was no one better at solving a mystery than when the three of them put their heads together.

But this wasn’t Hogwarts. It wasn’t the war. It was someone hunting his friend.

Harry’s mouth tilted into a frown as he observed the deep lines etched in the muggle woman’s naked chest. Her skin was stretched at odd sagging angles, her blood painted everywhere by what looked like messy wand work. He sniffed, trying to clear his nose of the stench. This one had died from blood loss most likely.

He shivered at the memory of Ron’s earlier reaction. One look and he’d promptly conjured a bucket and thrown up in. He’d turned away with tears in his eyes.

Ron had since apparated to the Ministry, to be there when Hermione came back from warding off her home. Harry didn’t particularly enjoy not having direct access to her when there was a possibility she could need him or Ron, but he understand the dangers and precautions that they needed to take. He just needed to get the two of them together to approve him for the wards.

Who could want Hermione dead?

Who was left?


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione stomped after Malfoy in a bewildered fashion, fully prepared to say something witty and derisive at his flirtatious remark, but it was forgotten as soon as he stopped on the grass in front of her house, turned to her and smirked. What was he, five?

Malfoy knew what she was thinking, and took it so far as to roam his eyes over her, lingering on certain parts of her body. It went on too long, even if it _was_ for the joke’s purposes, and he seemed to realize it with a snap of his head. He quickly met her eyes, his smirk dropping. Hermione didn’t know what to say, though she enjoyed how quickly his own joke backfired on him. As she went to meet them, she still felt unnerved.

Malfoy frowned and turned his attention to Paul, who was completely unaware of the silent war waging between the two. Malfoy waved his hand ruefully, trying to catch his attention. Paul lowered his wand and instead puffed out his chest like a proper penguin. He had been casting a silent spell on what appeared to be her chimney. The specificity of wards was tiring at times.

Malfoy nodded in the direction of her house, eyes hard. “We’ve finished inside. What else is there to do?”

Paul stuffed his wand somewhere inside his robes and addressed Hermione instead, “Then it seems we’re finished here.”

Hermione walked up, keeping a good two feet of distance between herself and the blond, who seemed just as perturbed as she was, trying everything he could not to look at her. “Then it’s all settled then?”

Paul nodded and gestured towards her front door. They would be flooing back to the Ministry.  Hermione walked first, hastily moving away from Malfoy who leisurely strolled behind her in silence.

Hermione entered the floo first, then Malfoy, then Paul, each time calling out the address while green flames burst forth around them.

\--

The first thing Draco Malfoy saw when he stepped out of the floo was Granger’s familiar bushy brown hair shaking back and forth. She had her hands held out in front of her, and from the unusual stiffness of her shoulders he could tell something was wrong. He walked up beside her hesitantly, not sure what it was. Her face held shock and something about the way her hands shook had his stomach sinking.

He noticed for the first time there was a blonde girl before her. She was the same assistant from the meeting just days prior. He could only imagine why she was here.

Bad news, judging by Granger’s reaction. She looked about ready to cry, and he preferred she do that when he was rather far away from her.

Draco, very aware of what he was about to do could set Granger off, gripped her shoulder lightly and asked, “Hey, what happened? Granger what’s wrong?”

Granger met his eyes very slowly and as soon as she did, something changed in them. He sensed something bad was about to happen, and he didn’t particularly want whatever it was to happen, so he shook her a little and broke her trance.

She blinked a few times, said quietly, “I need to see Harry. Right now.”

“Why?” Draco asked again.

Granger looked away and didn’t answer, and she started to walk past him despite his hold on her shoulder. He let go and followed closely beside her, wondering just what had happened. It wasn’t so much concern as it was curiosity. Though the darkness that was in her eyes before had made his stomach flip with nerves. He didn’t want to think on it.

She took a few turns, walking so fast she was almost jogging, and Draco had to really concentrate on keeping up. Granger finally pushed a heavy door open, almost running into Potter as he was heading out. Draco sidestepped their run-in and only just managed to avoid a collision with the two of them. After a beat, he realized Weasley was standing in the corner, looking haunted, before his full attention was on Granger again as she collapsed into Potter’s arms and started crying. Oh no.

Weasley made a move to walk forward, but Potter shot his friend a dark look, warning him to keep back. He let Granger cry and wrap what looked like a chokehold around his shoulders.

“What the hell happened Potter?” Draco demanded, now thoroughly confused. His stomach flipped again, and he started to feel sick. Watching this made him feel like an outsider. He shouldn’t be here.

Potter shot him a cold stare, and answered only by shifting inside the door, jerking his chin at the door for Draco to shut it. It was better to have privacy to discuss things, especially if they were about the case, which Draco suspected they were.

Potter just kept holding Granger. And Granger kept crying, starting to mumble a string of words that were too low to hear. Potter just nodded, and Draco could read the words _I’m so sorry_ on his lips.

He and Weasley were silent, and Draco wondered now more than ever what was so bad that could make the Golden Girl have a breakdown. This was the woman who had punched him in the face and broken his nose, who had put up with all his prejudice bullshit in school, fought and survived one of the most violent wars of all Wizarding time, and braved ridiculous newspaper slander every day. Hermione Granger did _not_ cry. She certainly didn’t break down like this. It made him feel sick, wanted to leave the room and say something to make it stop at the same time. The worry scratched at him like an annoying tick he needed to pick from his flesh. He didn’t know what to do, and that frustrated him.

He just— _fuck_ , he just wanted her to stop!

He asked again, louder this time, “What happened, dammit?”

“Another murder. A muggle woman. Hermione’s name was carved into her chest.”

Draco’s eyes widened at that. “When did this happen? What happened to keeping us updated? I need to know these things so I can do my job—”

“Calm down Malfoy. It just happened, while you were setting wards.”

Granger had gone quiet by now, one hand pressed to her face.

“Is there anything else you’re not telling me?” he bit out, not liking the way Granger’s eyes were wet and _why was she being so damn quiet now?_

Potter raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean Malfoy?”

“Why is she so upset?”

Ron spoke up from his place in the room, angry at the question. “Why the hell do you think she’s angry? Her name was just found on a dead woman’s chest!”

Malfoy reeled on him. “I don’t mean that, I—”

Granger’s voice rose, snapped, “I’m not _angry_! The pictures…I know who she is.”

The three of them all blurted, “What?”

She glanced at Draco so quickly he nearly missed it. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks flushed, but her posture was sure. Her usually smooth voice was grainy, but steady.

She glared at Ron, who practically shrunk from the look she gave him. “I’m not _angry_ ,” she repeated, then said, answering his own question, “She was my friend. I grew up with her. Before I left for Hogwarts. I haven’t talked to her since, but I never expected to see her again, let alone like this.”

Draco felt that cloying in his gut again, watching her gather herself. He knew in an instant he never wanted to see her break down like that again. And he was pissed Potter hadn’t just apparated to them sooner.

But he pushed all that aside, asking instead, “So we know now, she is the target.”

Granger sniffed, turned away from Potter and crossed her arms. “I’m sorry. I’m upset about her, seeing her like that. It’s been a long time since—”

Potter and Weasley said “Don’t apologize,” simultaneously. Draco just continued to watch her. She was shaking still. He didn’t like it. He wanted to leave the room and get as far away from the case as he could.

But that was impossible, he was her guard. He agreed to protect her, and that’s what he would do.

Potter adjusted his robes, looked to Weasley and then to Draco. He said, “I want you to take her home. Maybe stay with her for a while. We unfortunately have to stay here and work on the case.” Ron made a face but remained quiet. Draco was impressed the Weasel knew his place.

She started to protest but Draco stopped her himself. “I agree. You can’t work like this and I need to do my job.” Draco disliked the idea of the Weasel and Scarhead fucking things up even worse than they already were, and he was opposed to the idea of them watching her. But he had no right, she probably wanted Potter, even Weasley, more than she wanted him watching her.

“The wards are protection enough,” she said.

Potter voiced a quiet, “Maybe not.”

She let out a scoff and turned on her heel, fists balled. Draco followed behind her in silence. Watched as she faltered in her gait then pressed on. As her fingers flexed at her sides. As she sniffed and wiped one last time at the corners of her eyes before stepping into the floo.

She didn’t move away when he stepped in beside her, calling out her address.

\--

A sigh left her when she stepped into her living room. She headed for her couch and sat down with her legs crossed, clasping her hands in her lap.

_I’m being hunted. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised._

Hermione was no stranger to having an enemy hunt her down, so this was just old news stirred up by some surviving death eater who wanted revenge or something of the like. She didn’t really care about that honestly, it was that she never expected to see someone she had grown up with, someone completely innocent and unknowing of the Wizarding world to turn up dead. And it was her fault.

She’d seen the corpses of so many friends, enemies, and innocent bystanders that she’d carry it to her grave. The images of the war were ingrained in her head as clear as if they happened only minutes before. However, it had been only a handful of years since then and she was finally finding some peace with her life and moving on.

Until now.

And whoever it was hunting her down, they were bringing back all those memories. And Hermione would be damned if she let what was left of her friends die for her.

As Malfoy wandered in behind her, the roar of the fireplace having died down, she drew her knees in and placed her head between them, hugging her knees together. She heard a rustling beside her and she knew it was Malfoy, awkwardly seated there, not knowing what to do. She didn’t really care though; she just focused on breathing.

A long chain of minutes passed in silence as Hermione studied the darkness between her knees. Malfoy said nothing. She knew he had nothing to say. There _was_ nothing to say. She’d broken down in front of him, and she knew that. She didn’t want it to happen, but it had. She had to accept that and just hope he wouldn’t use her moment of weakness against her.

Hermione felt her head begin to grow heavy from bending her neck for so long, so she raised it just above her knees, resting her chin on them. Malfoy’s eyes glistened as he met her own. His expression was blank and carefully steady. She wondered how long he’d been looking at her, and it slightly unnerved her resolve.

“This means I’ll be with you a lot more,” he murmured.

She responded with a small nod. It had to happen and she’d come to terms with that. “We knew that already.”

He arched a brow, “You seem awfully fine for a person who has a target on their back.”

“Ha, because that little show was me being fine.” She sat up fully, crossing her legs. “I’m more concerned with others dying because of me. Rachelle, that woman in the photo, she didn’t deserve to die.”

“The innocent die every day, Granger, we’re used to it.” He looked angry at her, _with_ her. She couldn’t see why.

She shot him a hard look, clearly telling him to back off. “I’m not! I fought in the war; I lived a year hiding in forests and caves. I know what it’s like to have someone after your life. It’s always been like that. But I’m not closed off from grief, Malfoy.” Something in her eyes made him flinch just barely. And she thought, _good_.

Malfoy didn’t say anything, and Hermione was secretly grateful he didn’t. They both knew she was right.

“I’ve been threatened, I’ve been tormented.” She held his stare, wanting her words to sink in. “I’ve been tortured.” He blinked once, sucking in a breath. “I know what this life is like, but it’s not the war anymore, and this is one person killing innocents directly because of me. There is no grand battle for victory. It’s a hunt, Malfoy. And I won’t forsake my humanity because of it.”

“Gra—Hermione.” He seemed to struggle a moment with something, then said after a heavy pause, “In school, for six years I treated you like shit. Seventh year, I saw people—my own family—humiliated, tortured. Murdered. And all of it because everyone around me thought it was good sport. That it needed to be done. That it was the right thing to do.” His face twisted. “He’d throw these _dinner parties_. And he’d have bodies on the table, and expect us to—to eat. And he’d laugh.”

Hermione’s heart raced. “No one expected you to fight back.”

He shook his head, “Of course they did. I should have.”

“You would have died, Malfoy.”

He went quiet. “Maybe it would have been better if I had.”

Hermione gripped a cushion. “No. No, it wouldn’t. You were born into the wrong side, no one blames you—”

“Of course they do!” he barked out. “I could see it in their eyes. You all hated me, for good reason.”

“I didn’t,” she hissed at him, desperate in that moment to put this to rest.

Malfoy shot her a disbelieving glare. “How could you not have?”

She gripped tighter until her knuckles hurt. “I forgave you the night you refused to identify Harry.”

“I wasn’t refusal, it was cowardice, Granger.”

“I don’t believe that. There were worse consequences for what you did, you could have given him up. You weren’t a murderer. You aren’t.” She couldn’t move under his stare. He looked torn. Angry and there was fear there like she’d seen four years ago.

“Harry told me what your mother did for him, in the forest. She saved his life. And I remember that night. Harry, me, Ron, you—your parents. All of us, terrified. The only ones who weren’t were Greyback and your aunt!”

Malfoy swallowed, opening and closing his mouth. Finally, he ran a hand through his hair, let his eyes roam her face.

“The _point_ , of all this Granger, is I know it wasn’t right. It’s inexcusable what I put you through. What she did to you. I should have done more.”

His gaze was hard but pleading, and Hermione knew he meant every word. His fingers tapped against each other in his lap, but he wouldn’t look away from her.

Hermione could visibly see Malfoy squirm under his confession. He was being completely honest with her about a very sensitive subject, for both of them, and she knew it wasn’t easy. This conversation was long overdue.

“Thank you, Draco.” She said, thoughtfully.

His eyes went wide but said nothing of it, instead deciding to change the subject after moment. “So, have you any decent food in this place of yours?”

She smiled easily and stood, heading to the kitchen after a wave to Malfoy to follow her. It was small, like everything else about her house, but quaint and warm. Besides her study, this was her favorite part of her home.

Malfoy stood behind her, peering into her cabinets as she opened them and gestured to an array of food products. She could tell from his expression he didn’t recognize most of it because it was mostly muggle food.

He grabbed a box of pasta. “What is _angel hair_ pasta?” he asked, scowling. She chuckled and explained it was just a thin noodle, not actual angel hair. “Make it.”

It was amusing he was so taken with something so simple, but Hermione knew it was because it was new to him. She missed the way his grey eyes appraised her reaching for it on her toes. In the next five minutes she did a series of movements which baffled the blond, finally resulting in the pasta boiling in water, the rest of the sauce and spices set aside for when it was done. She set the timer for twenty minutes and left the kitchen, walking back to her couch and sitting down. Malfoy followed and surprised her when he took the seat next to her. She kept her eyes decidedly on the television.

“How long are you staying?” she asked.

Malfoy shrugged and said, “I have nowhere to be until work tomorrow morning, and Potter, I assume just meant I stay until you pulled yourself together after…what happened.” The crying he still felt uncomfortable with, she could tell. “So whenever you’re ready to boot me out I suppose.” He gave her a lopsided grin that pulled at her heart.

“What sort of shows do you like?” she asked him, grabbing the controller. Malfoy watched her intensely as she switched it on and began flipping channels.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

She chuckled in bemusement. “You’ve seen plays before, haven’t you?” He nodded. “Well what sort of play do you enjoy watching? Horror, romance, comedy?”

He actually seemed to think about it for a minute while she settled temporarily on a BBC broadcast of the upcoming weather for the week. He said finally, “I don’t really pay much attention to plays.”

“You’re impossible. I’ll find something,” she stated determinedly. “I’ll make it my mission to find something muggle-made to entertain you if it’s the last thing I do.”

He smirked and said, “You already entertain me enough, Granger.”

She met his gaze, surprised by what he’d said, even more so by the look he was giving her. She her face heat. “I am muggle-made aren’t I? Well, I guess I’ve done my job then.” She smiled nervously.

He rolled his eyes and laughed, breaking eye contact. “Relax Granger, I’m not going to pounce you.”

The memory of what he’d said earlier came to mind. “You never know, judging from what you said in my house. Quite the flirty little thing. I think you have a crush.”

He licked his lips, met her eyes with a half lidded, lusty gaze. “Oh, you have _no_ idea.” Her eyes widened, and before she could think about it she punched him in the arm. He swore and laughed. “Merlin, Granger you’re easy to tease! Calm down, before you pass out and leave me to tend to your pasta myself. I’ll burn your house down despite all the wards.”

Hermione groaned at him and went to check on the pasta. Six more minutes. She stood there and stared into the swirling noodles. Malfoy was starting to get to her.

Why was he flirting with her? Hadn’t the man broken up with his girlfriend not even a full day ago, and felt content to remain in mutual dislike not a week before that? Hermione closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. And why the hell was she acting like this? Blushing, heart racing. What the hell Hermione? It had been a year since she dated, or even flirted with anyone, so she surmised that must be it.

She supposed it was also the fact she hadn’t really talked to him in four years, so obviously she was a little nervous around him.

She breathed out again, forcing herself to calm down. He had _apologized_ to her, a full heartfelt apology. He knew what he’d done was wrong and he’d moved on. She really needed to just drop it between them. Maybe they’d come to terms to be friends even, maybe. But the whole flirting thing was—was crossing a line, yes. That was it.

Hermione was startled from her thoughts when the water started overflowing. She saw that Malfoy was still glued to her couch, only now he was fumbling with the remote, trying to figure out the buttons. She smiled as she dished out two plates of the food. A small part of her hoped he enjoyed it.

As she settled beside him and handed him his plate, she noticed the look of recognition cross his face. She thought it was a bit strange he’d not known what it was, but she guessed he was only curious in the first place because of the name.

“I told you it wasn’t actual angel hair. I’m sure you’ve had thin pasta before,” she told him, taking her first bite.

He spun it around his fork and ate a portion, not responding to her. He asked, “So how do you work this bloody thing?”

She grabbed the remote from him, their fingers brushing each other very briefly. He didn’t seem to notice as he was focused on the television. “You click these buttons, to change the channel. And then you can click the numbers to go straight to a specific channel you want. This is the movie channel.” Here she flipped through the few channels that featured movies and then clicked on a somewhat outdated after-school special. Malfoy was enraptured within moments.

“Their clothes are hideous, Granger,” was all he said for thirty minutes.

Hermione finished her food and returned her plate to the sink with a flick of her wand. Then she settled back, content to watch Malfoy for a few moments of stolen privacy. He was eating the pasta like he enjoyed it and he seemed to like the show, so Hermione was glad to have found something to occupy him with whenever he had reason to linger.

Malfoy finished and stood a little reluctantly to bring his plate to the sink, bringing out his wand to set the dishes to cleaning themselves, which Hermione was surprised at. She gave him a questioning look and he simply tilted his head in reply.

He said, “You seem better, so I should probably get going.”

Hermione was caught, she wanted him to leave, but something about the intimacy of the first time being alone, and their conversation, made her want him to stay. She wanted to find out more about him. But she knew it would be crossing a line, so she shrugged slightly, a non-answer.

“Do you want me to?” He shifted awkwardly to his other foot and he continued to look at her. His aloofness gave nothing away to what he was thinking about the situation. She, on the other hand, didn’t know if he could read her face right now or not.

“To what?” she asked, even though she knew what he meant. The dishes continued to magically scrub away, and the television sounded distant.

“Leave.”

“I’m fine now, I guess.”

“Alright.” He nodded and looked like he was about to say more, but he merely stuffed his hands in his pockets, turned and walked to her fireplace.

Hermione bit the inside of her lip and turned around to face her sink, glad she would have some alone time after the events of the day. A few moments passed and she waited, but there was no sound of the fireplace. She turned to the fire and was a little confused why Malfoy was just standing there, stock still.

Hermione walked over silently and cautiously reached out her hand, arguing with herself whether she should touch him at all, but decided to finally just touch his elbow gently. He angled his head to look at her and gave her a humorous curve of his lip and said, “Granger.”

“Yes?” She said, stepping to fully face him.

“Worry about yourself more. If you’re going to cry and make a mess of yourself, do it for yourself, not for someone you don’t even know.”

“I’ve known her for years, we-”

Malfoy wasn’t having it, he hardened his look and said, “I know. I know what you said. But you can’t destroy yourself each time it happens. Trust me.” He sighed. “Just, do me a favor and _never_ break down like that again.”

The concerned look he was giving her robbed her of whatever else she had to say about it. He couldn’t possibly be concerned about her? After only a few days?

He looked ready to say more, but then raised a hand to brush her hair behind her ear. He touched her cheek, hesitant. They held each other’s stare for a long while before his hand fell away and he stepped into her fireplace and called out the address of his own home.

The green flames swallowed him as he was whisked away home.

Hermione stood there for a long time staring into the ashy walls of her floo, feeling a pleasant buzz run through her. It had only lasted so long to where it seemed like it hadn’t happened at all. But she knew it had.

Why did he do that?

A loud tapping at her window sounded through her flat and she almost laughed when she jumped from it. It was a Ministry owl. She opened it to see Harry had delivered the invitation for this weekend. He had written a long apology at what it must seem like, sending something so frivolous after today’s events. He even offered to change the date of the gathering to whenever she felt ready for it. Hermione would feel wrong about that and wrote back a quick reply saying they needed to enjoy the good these days.

She was looking forward to seeing Ginny and everyone again, it had been too long since the last time. Ron would be there though, and so would Malfoy.

At least she had something to take her mind off the darker parts of today. And despite the guilt and heartbreak she was feeling, she knew Malfoy was at least partly right. Just like the war, there was no time to mourn. They needed to find who was coming after her.

And in the meantime, they’d celebrate the good news, instead of wallowing in the bad.


	6. Chapter 6

Malfoy emerged with a small smile into her living room in the morning. She was much better this morning, too. Last night she had told herself she would be professional about this from now on, there would be no more tears if she could help it. Though she was still saddened when she remembered the face of her former friend.

She rose from her place on the stool and smoothed down the dark brown pencil skirt she wore. Her cream blouse ruffled around her waist as she walked to greet him, for she had wanted to say something.

Malfoy was dressed in black slacks and a dark green dress shirt with a black tie. His robe hung at the crook of his bent arm as he appraised her from his place at her floo. He said with a hint of surprise, “You seem much better.”

Hermione came to a stop before him, saying confidently with a smile, “I am. And I want to thank you for yesterday.”

He looked taken aback. “Why?”

“For finally apologizing, and…everything. It was a conversation we needed to have.”

Malfoy just blinked at her. “It was.”

Hermione blinked and waved a hand in the air. “I won’t break down like that anymore, promise. I’m almost never like that. I hate doing it.”

“I didn’t think you were.” But he was still watching her wearily.

Hermione elbowed him teasingly and handed him Harry’s invitation. Malfoy curiously took it from her when she held it out for him. He took a moment to read it, then said, “So, Saturday at noon?” She nodded. “Potter and Weaslette’s place? Well, I’m sure I’ll be thoroughly entertained with the many gingers running about. However, don’t think I’ll forgive you if you abandon me for the wolves.”

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t be insufferable. Malfoy, you’ll be fine. You’ll have Ron to keep you company.”

He made a face and furrowed his brow. “I’d rather die.” She laughed, and he cracked his easy grin she hadn’t seen that much of. It suited him. He ran a hand through his hair and she was reminded of when he’d held her face. She quickly turned away and bustled about to gather her things for work.

She was still turned when his voice ring out smoothly through her living room. “I should just floo here at noon on Saturday, then?”

She replied, “I’m not a fan of being fashionably late, so probably be here around eleven forty or so.”

His voice was closer then she expected when he spoke next. “Malfoy’s are always fashionably late.” She turned and saw he was right behind her, gazing down at her with smoky grey eyes.

“Well, I’m not a _Malfoy_ , Draco, and what happened to you being _exact on time_?” He had that teasing glint in his eyes at her words. “Anyway, I just want this to be as painless as possible.” She set her things down and rubbed a hand over her face tiredly in thought of how Saturday would go.

“Why would it be painful? For you I mean. Being anywhere near Potter or Weasley makes me sick as it is.” He cracked a smirk but she missed it.

“I haven’t been to the Weasley’s in a year. I’m surprised Ginny even allowed Harry to invite me. Ever since I ended it with Ron, my relationship with them has been…strained.”

“Hm. Well, I’ll be there to distract the git long enough for you to escape unscathed. That’s my job isn’t it, as your guard?”

With a small curve of her lips, she said, “That would mean more to me then you know, but it has to happen sometime. Ron and I need to talk. It might be one of the reasons Harry set up the party. He did say he had big news though.”

“When does Potter not have big news?”

She laughed. “Very true, but I’m excited to see what it is.”

Malfoy tilted his head slightly and a thoughtful expression crossed his features. Hermione grew quiet and asked, “What?”

Something flashed behind his eyes, but it was gone all too soon for her to catch what it was. He straightened his posture and took a step away from her saying, “Nothing Granger. We better get to work. I don’t want you to be fashionably late.”

“Ha ha,” she griped.

\--

They emerged from the floo and Draco stepped away first, watching as Granger flung her hair behind her shoulder with a flick of her head. She looked up at him as he continued to walk to the offices. She said, “Really though, what?”

Draco wasn’t about to tell her that he was thinking about how she’d said his name again earlier, so he said instead, “I have lunch scheduled with my mother at the manor. I might have no choice but to be a bit late on Saturday.”

“Oh. I see.”

He gave her a humorous look and said, “What do you see?”

A cautious tone entered her voice. “Just…you’re very formal with your own mother, it sounds like.”

“Always have been.” He shrugged.

Granger was silent at that and she worried her lower lip between her teeth as if she had something more to say. Draco was becoming annoyed so he said, “Spit it out. You obviously have something else to say about it.”

“And your father?”

He expected that. “Azkaban. He’ll be there until he dies.”

She looked to the floor then concentrated on walking alongside him to her own office. “I’m sorry, Draco.”

He smirked at her use of his name again and said, “It’s his own fault. I didn’t particularly enjoy my father so I have no real opinion on it either way.”

She looked confused by his reply, so he added, “Don’t apologize, Granger.”

And he was telling the truth too. He had come to terms with what his father had done during the war, before the war. The last time he’d seen Lucius was a little over two years ago and he was here, living his life just like he’d always been. He was even happier then he’d been in a long while. Granger made him feel lighter. Being around someone who was so ready to smile and laugh at the smallest things definitely had an effect on him. It was new, but he found he very much enjoyed it.

He realized they had been standing in front of her office door for a while before she seemed to shake her head, snapping them both out of their daze. “Well, Malfoy, I’ll see you after work?”

Paul was supposed to lunch with her today, so after work it was. Their goodbye was quick, and for a moment he just stood there.

Finally, he headed to his own office with thoughts of how Granger rolled _Draco_ off her tongue.

This thought vanished however when he entered his office and saw the lean frame of Blaise Zabini standing in front of his desk. He was surprised to say the least. “What do you want?”

Blaise grinned broadly and clapped Draco on the back, he huffed from the impact. He hadn’t seen his friend in a while, but he still brought back memories of the war.

Blaise made a face at him. “ _What do you want_? What the hell man, I was just dropping by to see what you’ve been up to.”

Draco moved to sit behind his desk and Blaise dropped into the seat in front of him, his long legs stretched out before him. Draco took in the sight of him. Blaise had shaved his head since he last saw him, and the suit he wore was new. He looked good, better since the last they spoke.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Draco asked, not really wanting to hear an answer.

“I could say the same about you, mate. Remember Daphne Greengrass?”

“Yes,” Draco drawled, being reminded unfortunately of Daphne’s younger sister, Astoria. “What of her?”

“I asked her out and she agreed.” A wide toothy smile lit up Blaise’s face.

Draco sounded skeptical, “She hated you in school.”

“Because I was a prat. Theo reintroduced us and she agreed because she was _impressed by my personal growth_.” He sounded very proud of himself and Draco rolled his eyes. Blaise laughed. Draco knew Blaise must be in an overjoyed state of mind because he _rarely_ smiled and laughed. But Draco remembered the elegant blonde’s ways from their Hogwarts days. It seemed Blaise needed reminding of such things.

“She just wants a shag, you know.”

Blaise glared and said, “No, mate I’m sure she meant it. Our first date is tomorrow night, after I get off work.” Draco was surprised he had set up a date at all. He felt good for his friend, and hoped it would occupy Astoria with a new target to annoy if she had had some notion that she’d be able to worm her way back to Draco. Surely she’d either latch onto Blaise as a new source of indirect income, or become obsessed with getting her sister all to herself, out of spite and jealousy. If Astoria wasn’t happy, no one was.

Draco leaned back in his chair, deciding he was through with reminiscing on unpleasant things and said, “Well, that’s bloody grand, but I do have work to do. Was there anything else?”

Blaise gave him an amazed look. “Always working, just like in school. Theo and I were getting together at The Hog’s Head this weekend. Wanted to see if you’d fancy a get together with the old gang.”

Draco considered it a moment. The old gang would’ve been Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and him, but throughout the years in school, among other tragedies during the war it had gradually switched to Blaise, Theodore Nott, Pansy, and himself. Pansy had dropped off the map after the war, and he hadn’t seen her for years. So that left only Blaise and Theo. They’d probably talk about quidditch and women with fire whiskey aplenty. Draco didn’t hate the idea, though he would have to say no if it was Saturday. His job came first. And he was looking forward to have Granger get his mind off thing.

He was just looking forward to seeing her over the weekend. There was no hiding it from himself.

“Sunday?” he asked, feigning indifference.

Blaise flashed that toothy smile again. “See you then, around four or so.” Blaise left his office, leaving Draco to his own devices once again.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his face in his hands, he was tired of planning things. He didn’t like having his weekends busy. But he supposed it was unavoidable. He needed to talk with his mother, he’d been holding it off long enough and he knew he couldn’t keep the fact that he’d broken up with Astoria from her. The last thing he needed was for his ex to remain friends with his mother. He shivered at the thought.

He was obligated to go where Granger went, it was his job. And while he was looking forward to it, he was determined not to let Weasley and Potter muck it up for him. And he was amused that Granger held Weasley in partly the same light that Draco did. He was curious how she would handle the situation. He was sure the ginger would be on his best behavior around her, Potter wouldn’t let the situation turn hostile, at least Draco didn’t think he would. If it did turn hostile, which Draco held some amount of reserve for, then he’d be there at least to stop the situation. He’d already realized he didn’t want to see Granger break down like she had yesterday. Ever.

Then he had to deal with Theo and Blaise the day after that.

He glared up at his office ceiling, annoyed. “Fuck.”

\--

Hermione itched to do more research about the killer, but it was impossible at the moment. Paul was busy eating a ham sandwich very slowly. And she found she very much despised the way he took his time in smacking his lips and sucking his index finger if it got messy. It was almost fascinating, in a gross sort of way.

She wasn’t one to be hateful or disgusted with much of anything, but with the limited amount of time, plus the shear boredom of Paul and his dull personality, made her anxious to get the lunch hour over with. The large Auror hadn’t even made a move to start a conversation. She even found she very much preferred the slightly stilted banter with Malfoy than this boredom with Paul, and she wasn’t afraid to admit it.

And she didn’t even have any food.

She resigned herself to finish sorting various backlogged files for S.P.E.W.

\--

Saturday came bright and early, and enjoyably sunny. Hermione got up early, running on high alert for anything that could possibly go wrong today. She immediately _accio_ ed her wand before the sleep even left her eyes to make her bed and fluff each pillow accordingly so that when she got back home she’d have a proper place to collapse in a tired heap. She hurried through a hot shower with plenty lather rinse repeat cycles until her usual mass of curls was tamed to a more suitable style that she pinned back. She threw on a comfortable pair of jeans with boots and a baggy sweatshirt. With her rushing, she found herself eating breakfast at nine, completely ready to go. Three hours left until Malfoy even showed up.

So, as soon as she set to finishing her food and then washing her dishes by hand, she started to think of what would happen today.

She was curious to what Harry and Ginny had to announce that was so important. She knew it couldn’t possibly be about the case, because even though she was married to the Boy Who Lived, Ginny wasn’t allowed to know everything that happened in her husband’s line of work. She also knew it couldn’t be about Ron and her, because Harry and Ginny would never put either of their friends on the spot like that. It left only a handful of things Hermione could think of, and she had a few that were higher up on the list then others, but she’d just have to wait and see.

Ron. Hermione suspected Ron would be his usual evasive, awkward, mumbling, and immature self around her like he had been for the last year. He simply couldn’t accept the fact she didn’t want to be with him in the way he wanted. This made him an awkward jumbling mess the handful of times they’d been around each other since it happened. And it made her feel aged beyond her years to have to go through such a thing with a grown man. The various awkward moments that were sure to ensue she knew were unavoidable because they had to happen. She only hoped he remained civil around Malfoy.

She knew that was unlikely, but she still had hope. Malfoy had been, really…great with her honestly. Lately, things were fine between them. And if she could move on, so could Ron.

But she knew her friends, and she knew Malfoy. The best she could expect out of this was a bloody nose or two of Malfoy, Ron, or Harry. At this thought, she sighed.

Hermione soon finished the dishes and chose to pass the remaining time with watching movies of pathetic romance-comedies from the eighties until Malfoy arrived.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco searched out his mother and found her in all her regal attire, sitting elegantly in their dining room. She sat with folded hands in front of her. He cleared his throat and walked forward, making a noticeable entrance, and stopped only when she rose with a bright motherly smile to greet him with a delicate embrace.

“Hello, Mother.”

She pulled back and regarded him with sly twist of the mouth, like she knew something he didn’t. He hated it when she got that look in her eye. She gestured with a hand to the seat beside her and he took it carefully, settling only slightly. This dining room gave him memories of darker days, and why she chose to have tea here was beyond him. Why would she want to be reminded of the old days when death eaters stalked the halls and dined in these very seats? She called a house elf for a full tray of tea and varied sweets, which he ate very little of considering the apparent feast with Granger later on.

Narcissa took a dainty sip of her tea and only spoke once she’d set it back on the table. She spoke softly but with an obvious intention to instigate something, “I noticed that Astoria hasn’t been around recently. Surely you two have been busy together, at your flat?”

He gave her a dry look. “I broke up with her. I kicked her out of my flat days ago.”

She made a sound of distaste then a strange look came over her, “Why, Draco? I believed you two to be quite serious.”

Draco gave a huff of laughter, setting down his tea with a clank, “The bint was stealing from me. It had been over for a long time.”

She shot him a disapproving look at his language but moved on. “Draco, I trust you made the right decision. Pity though, she was such a nice young girl.”

Draco watched as his mother, all poise, ate a powdery cookie and fought not to retaliate at her words. He knew what Astoria was. Instead he said, “If she comes around, don’t let her in. I don’t want her anywhere near the Malfoy estate, or our money.”

Narcissa dabbed at her thin lips with a cloth napkin, the family emblem embroidered on the edge, and nodded at his words. Draco decided to change the subject, fixing his grey gaze on the candles in the middle of the long table, surrounded by a hedge of elaborate decorations that were every inch to his mother’s tastes.

“I also want you to be careful. The Ministry is dealing with a serial murderer. It seems to be an old follower of Voldemort’s running around, killing muggles. The killer is targeting those who were once powerful enemies against the Dark Lord, and he may target the pureblood families who defected from his side.”

His mother gave a small tilt of her head with a bending of her lips. “Like us.”

Draco nodded, meeting the eyes of his mother, the woman who single handedly saved Harry Potter’s life at the last second, defying Voldemort and everything that was his side. Draco had been confided in a year after the war, when his mother had suddenly broken down and told him everything that was heavy on her mind. She had still been suffering from the loneliness of losing Lucius to Azkaban. She still was, she had loved him dearly, but now she held it in with a stoicism that surpassed that of even Draco’s.

“Like us, yes,” he agreed. Among others, he thought.

Narcissa closed her eyes and sipped her tea again. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything, son.”

Draco nodded, more to himself then anything, and said, “Thank you.”

The rest of their morning visit was filled with content though somewhat heavy silence as they each individually relived memories they’d rather forget.

\--

Hermione was so into her movie by the time Malfoy stepped into her living room, that she didn’t immediately notice him. She missed the smirk cross his face. He knocked two knuckles against the wall to draw her attention but she didn’t startle when she saw him, only barely glanced in his direction before she reluctantly rose to her feet and switched off the television.

She took his appearance in with a swift glance. A simple black dress shirt with a green and brown accented tie, and black slacks. His hair was styled back for the first time since their school days, and she quirked a brow at it.

“What are you giving me that look?” he asked, suspicious.

“Your hair, it’s quite…tidy today.”

Malfoy gave her a flat stare. “And?”

Hermione wanted to reach a hand up and thoroughly tousle his blond locks to where it looked relaxed and normal as it usually did. Slicked back made him look much older than he was. Like his father. However, she shouldered the urge and instead asked, “How was the Manor?”

He looked off to the side, “Insufferable.”

Hermione tried not to be too obvious about wanting to know more. How was his mother? What had happened to the Manor she used to have nightmares about? What did the Malfoy’s eat?

“That’s too bad,” she said instead. She trailed off and walked past him. “I’ve decided that if there’s a chance, I’m going to pull Ron aside and speak to him. About everything. He needs to move on and I’d rather defuse any situations that could come up with, well, with you.”

Malfoy answered in a deliberate tone, “If that naff hasn’t let go after a year, he likely needs more than a good dressing down. And I promise I won’t start anything—it he doesn’t first.”

Hermione glared at him and fought back the desire to argue the point. If today didn’t get Ron to back off, she didn’t know what would. She relented with a sigh, “I’m just saying that I’ll need some time to myself so I can have some privacy with him. I hardly think being chaperoned by you will make him listen any harder.”

Malfoy just chuckled at that.

\--

As soon as they stepped out from the Weasley’s floo, music and warm, homely smells filled their noses with the promise of delicious food and a fun time. Hermione realizes then just how much she’d missed this and tried to subtly wipe at the corners of her watery eyes. She loved them dearly, all of them, and she promised herself right then that she wouldn’t miss another celebration if she could help it.

She touched a hand to the clip in her hair to make sure it was still in place. She glanced at Malfoy, who immediately seemed out of place and overdressed. He was fidgeting in his skin, looking about the brightly colored living room like it was his own hell come to greet him personally. She wondered if he’d ever had a party, a real party, with music and fun and food, with real friends. Not just some pureblood gala. As his grey eyes danced around and his mouth slowly developed into a truly uniquely-Malfoy sneer, she assumed not. She said with amusement, “Relax Malfoy, I’ll protect you.”

He gave her an unconvinced look. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had the desire to leave me at the mercy of your friends. And I can’t do a thing about it.” He said it in mocking, but he looked honestly frightened about it, and it made her mouth twitch in humor.

“Only once you get settled in of course.” She took a few cautious steps into the center of the room, looking about to see if she could spot one of the Weasley’s tell-tale red hair, or Harry trying to escape the spotlight of the party as he usually tended to do. She half expected Molly to come bustling around the corner, all motherly love to grab her in her arms, telling her how much they missed her and awaited her arrival. But there was nothing like that.

She could hear voices outside, and she wondered if she should just walk through or wait. She turned back to Malfoy and saw that he had a finger under his tie and was loosening it a little, he seemed to be in thought. He met her anxious brown eyes, looking about to say something when his eyes darted behind her and seemed to lock onto something. She turned around and saw it was Harry, dressed as simply as she was, with a big smile on his face. He walked forward to embrace her in a welcoming hug, and even offered a hand for Malfoy to shake, which surprised them both when he did.

Malfoy tilted his head and asked, “How long is this party going to last, Potter? I won’t be of any use guarding Granger if I’ve had my eyes rotted out from having to look at gingers all day.”

“Then look at the ground. I’m sure the dirt will be glad to have a taste of some Malfoy sunshine.” Harry had a playful fire in his eyes, daring Malfoy to take the joke. And Hermione was pleased to see Malfoy’s split on a sly smile. He opened his mouth to reply when a familiar loud voice came from the corner of the room, nearly shouting Hermione’s name.

Ginny Weasley, now _Potter_ , walked over to them and gave Hermione a big hug, whispering in her ear, “It’s so good to see you again, we’ve both missed you more then you know.” Hermione teared up as she nodded into Ginny’s shoulder.

They pulled apart, and Malfoy took a step further into the room subconsciously latching onto Hermione’s presence. Hermione took in Ginny’s appearance, oblivious to Malfoy and how out his element he was acting. The red head was fuller since the last time she saw her, and she seemed happily refreshed in the way her eyes flitted back and forth between the occupants of the room. The presence of Malfoy didn’t even faze her. Same old Ginny, never letting anything unsettle her. A nervous smile worked its way to Hermione’s lips.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I haven’t been around…Just with everything I…No. I have no excuse. I apologize for that.” Hermione bowed her head apologetically and met the eyes of both Harry and Ginny, a silent conversation passing between them. They seemed to hold no ill will over what went on between her and Ron, and she was grateful for it.

“Oh, don’t be stupid, you’ve been busy. It happens to the best of us. It’s not school anymore, and Ron can grow the hell up. I’ll drag you through the floo myself if I have to.” Ginny tossed a wide smile at her and flashed her husband a knowing look. Harry’s job as an Auror caused him to be absent for often vast amounts of time. This only supported more visits from friends. Hermione couldn’t afford to be absent like that again. With a final wave of Ginny’s hand, all previous awkwardness of the last year was forgotten between the three of them.

“Well, I-” Hermione was cut off as she caught site of Ron behind them. He had walked in from the back door and was holding a mug of something that sloshed when he saw them. After the initial shock of seeing her, he cast wary eyes on Malfoy. His features twisted into the hate she’d seen all those years ago whenever they talked about Malfoy. She’d seen that look so many times before. But it passed in an instant and it was gone, she wasn’t entirely sure if anyone else had seen it.

From the amused curve of Malfoy’s lips and the way his unnerving gaze speared Ron, she knew he at least had. Harry and Ginny were either choosing not to acknowledge it or oblivious, as they said an unneeded introductory.

Ginny said, “We invited Hermione here today for the important news. Now Ron please, do shut your mouth or the flies will be stuck to your teeth permanently.” She strode past him, linking her arm in both Harry’s and his and proceeded to force him out the back door.

Ron managed a weak, “Hey,” but allowed his sister to drag him away from what would have surely been the start of a fight.

Hermione sighed, moved her hair behind her shoulders, and glanced at Malfoy. He looked at her with laughing grey eyes and said with mock thrill, “Oh, today will be just jolly.”

She rolled her eyes and said, nearly a mutter, “I can’t wait to talk to him.”

They caught up with Ginny and Harry, Ron wandering a little ways off to surely avoid any interaction with Hermione. They were greeted with a warm, though slightly hesitant welcome from the Weasley’s and other guests. She hadn’t seen George since the war and he seemed to be doing better after his time abroad travelling. His usually goofy demeanor was back. She gave him a big hug, trying to put as much comfort in it as she could. She had loved Fred just as they all had, and she’d not had a chance to really speak with him since the war ended.

Neville and Luna were there, unsurprisingly holding hands. While Luna loosed her hand from Neville’s to hug Hermione, Neville only stared at Malfoy a good minute before he nodded seriously and extended a hand. Malfoy quite unexpectedly looked somber at the peace offering. He gripped Neville’s hand firmly and that was that, Neville giving an understanding smile.

Luna seemed oblivious to this exchange. Hermione couldn’t recall the girl ever having a trace of malice in her even after the Malfoy Manor incident. However, with both Malfoy and Hermione speechless, Luna turned to Malfoy and in her always calm demeanor grabbed his hand and eagerly bounced it between them. She said, “Draco, I’m glad you never did kill anyone. I always sensed that plants liked you very much. And plants are quite picky you know.” She smiled in that far off way she always did and released his hand, clasping Neville’s again. “Neville’s in plants you know, at Hogwarts. He does love them.” She beamed in the same way at him. Neville smiled down at her, and met the very confused eyes of Malfoy and Hermione. He gave them a look that seemed to say _sorry_ and _just go with it_ and _isn’t she lovely_ all at the same time.

Malfoy looked between the happy pair and said, more a question, “Thank you?”

“Oh, you’re very welcome.”

Neville spoke next, pride at his work in voice, “I’m the leading herbology head for the department at Hogwarts and I tie it in with work at the Ministry, experimenting on those diagnosed insane.”

Hermione rose an eyebrow, knowing it was a sensitive topic. “Neville that’s wonderful! You must use a lot of Alihotsy.”

“Oh definitely! I’m in the process of separating the fibers of the stalk. It seems to have a slightly less intense effect. If I’m able to pinpoint the exact reason it causes hysteria, I might be able to reverse it.”

“Transform the infliction into a cure,” Malfoy chimed in.

Hermione turned a thoughtful smile on him as did a surprised Neville. “Exactly! If it works, an entire floor of St. Mungo’s will be reduced to a single administering room.”

“A cure for insanity,” lulled Luna from beside him, who now rested her blond head on his arm. “I prefer puffapods myself. They’re quite fun to drop in front of the unsuspecting, bound to cheer up anyone even if they don’t know they’re having a bad day.”

Hermione thought of the giant pink flowers bursting into existence once the seeds were dropped on the ground. She wasn’t quite sure if she’d be annoyed or cheered up by the gesture.

Luna continued on, “Well, Neville and I will see you again. Have fun, both of you. It’s good to have everybody back together.” Neville hugged Hermione again and waved once to Malfoy and they walked off to mingle elsewhere.

“I didn’t know they were together,” Malfoy said, shifting his weight and meeting her eyes.

“A few years now.” She elbowed him softly. “Didn’t expect a warm welcome did you, Draco?”

He shot her a small grin, at what she didn’t know. He said, “I wasn’t expecting a welcome at all.” He eyed the large spread of food a few yards away and seemed to contemplate heading over until Molly and Arthur Weasley were suddenly in front of them. Hermione’s stomach did a nervous flip flop as the seconds ticked away as if in endless slow motion, waiting for what was sure to be the most awkward of all meetings. Instead, she was stunned to be found in the warm and embrace of Molly. Arthur regarded her fondly, like he was looking at a long lost daughter, and Hermione knew that all was well with them too. Just like with Ginny and George.

Malfoy however, was ignored entirely by Molly and Arthur until Molly released Hermione. Malfoy regarded each in unwavering indifference, just as a Malfoy had a way of doing, until Molly said, “Boy, we know why you’re here. Arthur doesn’t work at the Ministry for nothing. And as ugly as our family histories have been, we are forever grateful to you for looking after our girl.” She grabbed Hermione’s chin gently with the cup of her hand and beamed at her, love evident. “She’s our second daughter, and we would never want any harm to come to her.” Arthur placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “We love her.”

Malfoy’s face turned serious as he listened to all they said. He listened to every word and didn’t sneer or scoff once and it was a wonder to her as she watched him. She didn’t have to know his parents personally to know he wasn’t raised in a warm home. Even before Voldemort, his life in that house couldn’t possibly have been one of overflowing love and celebration for the sake of it. She knew from school he’d held an adoration for a father that didn’t seem to return his owls during meals in the great hall. That adoration had waned the closer to the war they got. And from the response he’d given to her about his father being in Azkaban until he died, he was cold about it. But Hermione remembered the sight of his parents holding him close after it was all over, bloodied but alive with relief in their eyes. Narcissa, she knew, would do anything for her son, but was she capable of radiating anything close to Molly’s warmth?

Hermione didn’t think so, and it was such a sad thing to think about that she felt for a wild moment that she should hold Malfoy’s hand. To comfort him or make him feel more at home here or _something_.

She was pulled from her reverie when he answered with a sincere, “She’s safe with me.” Hermione’s smiled faded to one of interest. When he met her eyes, he looked at the ground. Molly and Arthur who kissed the top of her head and released her.

As they parted, Arthur clapped Malfoy on the back and said, “She better be.”

Alone again, he met her eyes again. He seemed almost…embarrassed. Hermione tried hard not to let out a laugh. He moved a hand through his hair knocking a few slicked strands loose, and said, “You worried for nothing. These people obviously more than missed you. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a hidden shrine of you somewhere. Do they have a broom closet I haven’t been shown yet?”

She did laugh at that. “I’m so relieved they aren’t angry at all the lost time. And _you_! They’re treating you great, which is wonderful. I was hoping everything would go smoothly, and so far it has.”

“More than smoothly for you. I’m just the plus one they have to bare looking at. And I’m hungry,” he said suddenly.

Hermione glanced behind him, gave him a funny look, “The food is right behind you Malfoy, just have to walk a few feet.”

He frowned and looked somewhere behind her. No answer. She let out a bark of laughter. “Are you scared you’ll have to touch more people?”

He arched a brow, met her eyes and looked away again, “Not at all. Just don’t want to be caught off guard by any old enemies. They may seem friendly enough now, but that’s just because I’m with you. Once you leave they’ll be all over me. Especially that freckly pigeon headed Weasel.”

“That insult makes no logical sense.”

He let out a huff of laughter. “Doesn’t have to.” He leaned forward and said, more quietly, his stormy eyes watching something behind her, “Here comes the nancy now. I’ll get some food.” With that, he pivoted on his heel and strode to the table, now very unafraid of any ‘old enemies’.

She rolled her eyes, _He’s just afraid of Ron. Though I did ask him to head off if I got a chance to talk to him._ Anxiety suddenly gripped her, not unlike when Molly and Arthur approached, though now it was much worse. Ron would surely have many, _many_ things to say.

Hermione turned around, forcing a smile on her face. She tried to look gentle and unaffected but she suspected it came out looking as if she was in pain. Ron stopped before her, much the same expression on his own face. He spoke, surprising her with what he asked, “Um…are you alright ‘Mione?”

_‘‘Mione?’ I’m starting to hate that nickname._

She asked instead, “Are you?”

His lips curved. “It’s good to see you here. Everyone in one place. Though it’s not quite the Burrow.”

She nodded in agreement. “Nothing’s quite like the Burrow.”

“Of course,” he said lowly, “There are always unwelcome guests.”

He was staring knives into Malfoy’s bent back. The blond was gathering food, a great deal from the look of it too. She suspected he didn’t usually eat _quite_ that much. She looked back to Ron and touched his arm, which she instantly regretted because his look changed to something hopeful.

She snatched her hand back to her side. Enough of this. “Ron, there’s something we need to discuss. It’s been bothering me a great deal for the last few months. And I’m not sure you really understood me when I said it was better that we end things. I—” Ron was hanging on to every word, but she shook her head and pointed behind him, where Harry and Ginny stood.

People were gathering around. This was the moment they’d thrown the party for, she was sure. She caught sight of Malfoy who was walking back with a small mountain of food. She gave him a pointed look and he responded by offering her a cookie. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Harry and Ginny.

Ginny, holding Harry’s hand, was smiling kindly at the small mob that had gathered. They certainly knew how to throw a party. Now Hermione’s curiosity would be satisfied. She had a good guess as to why they were throwing the party, they’d been married just over two years now, and Ginny’s appearance had served to confirm her guesses. Though she couldn’t be certain until Harry announced what it was.

With a nod to his wife, he eagerly called out to the guests, “We’re pregnant!”

She’d been right! Malfoy made a small sound when she threw a fist in the air, startling him.

A great sense of pride and excitement washed through her. They’d be wonderful parents, she knew it.

“We wanted to announce it to everyone at once instead of going around and telling everyone individually,” Ginny added. “Nothing more awkward then carrying around a baby and your friend didn’t even know you had one.” A smattering of laughter throughout the crowd, even Malfoy.

Hermione was happy he was here. Never mind that it was his job.

Malfoy felt her gaze and looked at her quizzically. “What is it, Granger?” he asked her, voice quiet.

The crowd was starting to break around them, some saying their well wishes and farewells as they left the party, most sticking around and congratulating the happy couple. Molly was positively ecstatic for her only daughter. Arthur chatted at Harry happily. Ron was there as well.

She steered Malfoy over to a leaning brick fence while they continued to talk. “Have you ever been to something like this?”

“I haven’t.”

She hummed thoughtfully, feeling the tiniest bit sorry for him, but she knew it was silly to do so. Malfoy was Malfoy, if any different he wouldn’t be well, _Malfoy_.

She was about to question further, when he got the same look as before. Ron was heading over. Hermione sighed up towards her companion before waving him off, and he surprisingly went to Harry and Ginny after a moment’s hesitation. He ran another hand through his blond hair, a nervous tic she’d come to recognize.

Ron was staring at her when he came up, grin still strained. “So ‘Mione, what were you saying earlier?”

\--

Draco tried to walk unbothered over to the Potters, though it was ruined by the very large and ridiculous plate of food he carried. He didn’t even like the food they were serving that much. Where were the sweets? There were only so many meat pies one could consume in a single afternoon. Ginny was still being goggled at by her parents, so Harry was free for the moment.

Truthfully, Draco had hastened to get away from Ron, because he knew Granger wanted to talk to him alone. And he didn’t trust himself not to get into a fight with the Weasel. So, in a last-ditch effort to find a place to be, he headed for the least irritating face there. Potter had become decidedly less annoying since the war ended. He thought of his visit this morning with his Mother and thought the information worth relaying.

Potter eyed him before taking a cookie from his plate, smirking at Draco’s expression. “What, Malfoy, wanted to congratulate the new parents?” He smiled at him brightly. Draco didn’t think there was ever a time in the past where Potter had looked at him with so much joy.

“Yes, yes, all happiness and faeries and all that rubbish, but I wanted to disclose something about the case.” Potter was all ears then. “I had a visit with my Mother this morning. I told her there was a possible supporter of Voldemort’s running around. She said she’d keep me updated.”

“How?” he asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious.

“Despite our name being in tatters, my mother still has old friends that are loyal to her. Friends that still run in circles we left behind.”

“She’ll be safe?” Potter asked him, serious.

“Of course,” he huffed. Potter’s concern for his mother wasn’t as baffling as it would have been just a few years ago. Narcissa had saved his life, and Draco supposed he never realized that Potter would care about her wellbeing. “She can handle her own,” he finally said, a peace offering.

Harry held Draco’s grey gaze for a few intense moments before he said, “I think it’s a good plan. They’ll confide in her willingly. But you report _everything_ your mother finds out back to _me_. Any less and I’ll have reason to believe you’re a dangerous influence on Hermione and that’s all I need to throw you in Azkaban.”

Draco rolled his eyes, as if he wasn’t aware of that little bit of information already. “I’m _not_ going to hurt her, I don’t _want_ to. So, you can stop it with the incessant threatening. And I expect my mother to be placed in protection if either one of us thinks she’s in harm’s way herself.”

Potter nodded, “Of course, Malfoy.”

Good, he thought.

“You two are getting on?” Potter asked him suddenly. “Getting on well, I mean?”

The pointed look Potter gave him had Draco scowling.

“Very well, actually.” What was the point in lying? “It makes my job easier.”

Harry quirked a brow at him and Draco knew there was more he wasn’t saying.

“’Course it does. Thank you.”

He wanted to squirm under Potter’s gaze. It was making his skin crawl. “No problem. Now,” he said, shaking him off, “go procreate some more with your wife. Inhabit the world with more little golden annoyances.” He turned to leave, but with a last thought gave his hill of food to Potter. The wonder boy cracked a smile and dug in.

Both of them stopped when they heard raised voices.

Malfoy was more than surprised at what he saw when he started back towards Granger.

\--

“’Mione?” Ron repeated, a little more loudly now.

Hermione regarded him with a wary expression. She bit the inside of her bottom lip to try and keep her voice level, unlike Ron.

“I was saying that I think you misunderstood me when I said we should end things.”

Confusion clouded his blue eyes. “What do you mean?”

“When we broke up last year,” she encouraged.

A moment. “You mean you want to start things again?”

Her eyes widened as her stomach dropped. Panicked, she shook her head, hands flying up.

“What? Ronald, no. I meant—” she started, but he interrupted her loudly.

“’Mione! That’s great, I love you, and I promise I won’t make the same mistakes twice!”

“Ronald,” she insisted. “That is _not_ what I’m saying.” Trying to keep her anger in check, which was failing fast.

Immediately the happiness was gone from his eyes and a suspicion crept in them. He turned away slightly and regarded her weakly. “What then, if not _that_?”

A moment of thought and she let everything she’d been holding in, out.

“I’m sick of the puppy dog looks you give me at work. I’m tired of you showing up randomly where I am when you feel good and avoiding me any other time. I’m pissed off at the way you treat me when you don’t get the reaction you want. I hate that you think we still have a chance. You need _maturity_ in a relationship, Ron, do you even understand what that is?” He tried to speak but she shushed him. “Do not! I am going to talk now, just like you always did, and I am _not_ going to be interrupted. I hate that you make it awkward whenever I’m in a room with you or Harry. It’s been a _year_ , move on! I’m over it, over the pain we went through, and I just want to be friends. I want things to be normal again. And no matter how hard I try, I find that I haven’t even seen most of my friends in a year, my friendship with Harry and Ginny and you have suffered because of our breakup, Ron. And I hate that we can’t just go back to being like we were, before the flirting and dating. Before any of that. When we just friends. Why can’t you understand that I love you, but as a friend? We’re past anything else.” Her heart was hammering as she tried to catch her breath. She was beyond angry, she was sad, she was sorry for him. She was happy she’d said everything she needed to say.

Only he wasn’t saying anything, and it was quickly becoming awkward fast.

“You said you loved me,” he spoke in a whisper, deadly quiet and bordering on anger. She knew how he got when he spoke like this. And it never ended well.

“ _As a friend, Ron_! Nothing more. No romanticism. Platonic not romantic. We were kids!”

“So, what you’re saying is…You want me to move on and forget you?”

Relief flooded through her. “ _Yes!_ That’s all I want, is for you to move on. That we can go back to before all this happened.”

She saw his blue eyes close and squeeze together, his face was flushed. He wasn’t past his anger, but she knew he was about to cry. And he hated crying. He opened his eyes, looked up at the sky and took in a few deep breaths to calm himself. With watery eyes, he looked at her in something she had never seen on his face before. At least not directed at her.

Disgust. Contempt. Hatred.

Yes, he was beyond anger now. He was hateful.

“Okay, we’ll go back to how things were before all this happened. Way back.” He gave her a strange look, mouth twisted. “I guess I’ll see you around…Granger.” His face contorted miserably, and she knew he regretted saying it, but she didn’t stop him as he turned around and apparated on the spot.

Hermione knew he was being dramatic just for the sake of it, but the hate in his eyes when he regarded her. She felt something break in her and then she was crying too. Everything good they’d ever shared came rushing to the forefront of her mind and it crushed her. She thought of their fights and they seemed so small then.

The tears started then against her wishes and she felt a large sob wrack through her, choked off. She wasn’t going to do this, not here, not when Harry and Ginny were so happy. Dammit, why was she letting her body do this?

It was the right choice, she was so much happier now, _it was the right choice_.

And then her eyes landed on Malfoy and she thought, I’m sorry.

She didn’t know who it was for.

\--

Draco was mentally questioning why the ginger had so abruptly apparated away, but as he neared Granger, he knew. She was glaring through her tears, hands almost violently swiping away at them before they fell. She let out a desperate little laugh when he approached her, and it made him feel sick.

This was exactly what he had not wanted. She was trying not to cry, he could clearly see that and she was only looking at the ground. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed. She met his eyes and shook her head unsteadily.

“Draco, I—” Her voice cracked and she groaned, her free hand practically swatting at her eyes.

Fucking Weasels.

He turned around and met the curious eyes of the guests, wondering just what had caused her to act like she was. They were all probably silently blaming him. Potter and the Weaselet walked over when he narrowed his eyes pointedly. Ginny gasped when she saw Granger, and Harry instantly glared at Draco. Draco only said, “Weasley.”

Potter could only glare harder. He groaned. “I’m sorry for this, I thought it would go okay today…I just wanted everyone to get along.” He said, almost stupidly. He was fucking Harry Potter, he knew just as well as Draco did that not everyone _got along_.

Draco kept his tone low, and said, “Someone needs to tell Weasel to back the fuck off. He obviously doesn’t listen to her.”

Granger was determined to look off into the hills that surrounded them. She still hadn’t tugged her wrist free, letting Malfoy keep hold of it. He squeezed her once more. She seemed to come back to them, and her voice was distant. “He will. Now. He wants nothing to do with me anymore. Not even friends. I suppose he’ll resign from the case too.” More tears, but quieter.

“He’d never do that ‘Mione’,” Potter tried to assure her. Draco wasn’t so sure.

“Stop calling me that infuriating nickname!” she barked. Potter held his hands up in surrender.

Draco released her wrist to instead place a hand at her back. “Look, I’m taking her home.” Granger didn’t fight him on that.

The Potters only nodded at that, eyes on their friend.

“Take care of her, Malfoy,” Ginny said, pulling Granger into a tight hug. “We’ll be right here if you need us.”

“I just—I need some space. I’m so sorry for ruining your celebration, Ginny,” Granger whispered to her.

The red head kissed her cheek. “Don’t be stupid, Hermione. As soon as you feel up to it, you and me are having a girl’s day. Malfoy can come too.” She waggled her eyebrows and Draco felt relieved when Granger smiled at her, watery though it was. They gave Granger a final hug and said their goodbyes.

Potter gathered the party’s attention away from the commotion and it allowed them to escape without questions, though Luna called out a dreamy “Goodbye” as they entered the back door.

Granger continued to cry silently and allowed Draco to drag her along to the floo while he mumbled the whole time about how useless and disgusting and fucking annoying the git was. He questioned at one point how he could live with himself, making someone he apparently loved so much cry so terribly. She was giving him a wondering look, probably wondering why he cared so much. He was wondering the same thing.

But then she slowly grabbed his hand, and hesitantly wove their fingers together. It stopped him talking, and his angry thoughts went blank.

He could never tell her how thankful he was for that.

\--

Minutes later and she was being deposited on her own couch and told to stay there. He stood in front of her, both staring at each other, before he turned and walked around her house for the next ten or so minutes. At one point she heard a muffled yell of _Damn wards!_ in frustration as entering every room for him required a specific dewarding of that room if she did not enter first. While he was rummaging for whatever he was looking for, she busied herself with reflecting on her conversation with her childhood friend, her first lover…she heaved into her hands as she cupped her face and openly sobbed now. Not bothering to worry about if Draco heard or not, she simply no longer cared. In hindsight she would probably be embarrassed at letting him see her like she was, but she didn’t even have the capacity to think ahead at the moment.

Draco was doing more for her than he needed to. She could have flooed herself home and been left to her own devices. He could have just escorted her back and then left, knowing he’d done his job.

But he was here, stomping through her house with a goal she didn’t know, and she knew then, something that she had tried denying for days now.

She was too emotionally exhausted to care right at the moment.

So she sat and she sobbed and she waited.

\--

Draco swore a few times throughout her room and bathroom, returning finally with a large blanket and a cold rag. He had heard her sobbing as soon as he was out of sight. He tried to block it out, feeling anger simmer while he focused on the task at hand. He’d just stood in her bathroom and tried to breath while listening to her. He fucking hated Ronald Weasley.

When he came back out, supplies in hand, she had seemed to calm a bit. She appraised him and then _accio_ ed a box of tissues from her bedroom closet and then grabbed a handful, and sniffled into it.

Draco resumed his standing, trying not to watch her too intently. When she coughed once, throat dry and nose clogged, he jumped to her kitchen and grabbed her a glass of water. Kneeling before her, he put the glass in her hand, satisfied only when she sipped on it. She gave him a funny look. His body was tingling, and he just wanted her to be better already _dammit why can’t I help more_?

“Granger?” Nothing. She stared into the water. “Granger! What the hell did he do to you?”

She met his eyes, she looked exhausted. She sniffed once and said, “He called me Granger.”

Draco knew that was worse than any insult he could have thrown at her. The doting fool called her the silliest of nicknames, even when they were kids in school and seemed to be fighting, the fool still called her by her first name.

“Granger, what else?”

She glared at him, the redness of her eyes adding to the intensity of her stare. “Don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“Granger. At this point, you’re a better friend then he is, so…Draco. Don’t call me Granger. It’s Hermione. My name is Hermione.”

If it was for some personal revenge that she was commanding him to call her by her first name he’d take it. He liked her calling him Draco anyway. He nodded and pushed the glass of water towards her again, her voice was becoming raw.

They stayed like that for a while. He crouched in front of her and watched as she drank half the glass. When she next spoke, she caught her breath. “Why do you care so much about me? About all this?”

He frowned at that. “I don’t like seeing you cry.”

She cracked a wry smile. “You really have changed.”

“It should have happened sooner.”

He bit down hard on that slip up. He’d said too much. She was looking at him in that searching way she had a knack for, so he looked at the glass she held instead. He needed to get away before she saw something he wasn’t ready to admit yet.

What the hell was she doing to him?

He was startled out of his thoughts with a thoroughly disgusting sounding sniffle. He watched as she launched a wadded tissue somewhere off to her right side, in the hallway, and wondered if she wanted him to clean it up. Like hell he would. She had a wand, she could do it herself.

“Draco?”

_Oh here it comes. She wants to reduce me to that of a house elf._

“Thank you for the gesture, but I hate this blanket.” She took another drink of her water and started huffing in little shuddering laughs.

“It is bloody ugly, I’m glad to know we have similar taste in at least one thing.” He said, meeting her eyes again. The moment from before had passed and she just looked tired now.

She told him to get the blanket that was on her bed as she tossed the one he’d got on the chair. He complied and soon draped her new blanket across her shoulders. She crossed her legs and patted the seat next to her, motioning for him to sit. He did.

They were quiet, not really knowing what to say. Everything had changed.

“No more crying, I really don’t know if I can come up with any more jokes.”

Hermione looked at him oddly and said, “I’m alright now. The water really helped. Made me focus of catching my breath and that’s what’s important when dry heaving. Because when you convulse and start shaking like that your body continues on even if you want it to stop, and the panic attack is almost impossible to stop until—”

Draco pushed her glass towards her mouth again and said, “Less rambling, more focusing.”

\--

About an hour later they still sat there, talking comfortably, chatting about nothing really, just enjoying the calm. The peace and quiet of just the two of them was much better than either would have originally expected. It left Draco wondering if he had never believed in blood status as a child that Hermione would have been a friend when they were younger. It was lost time, he thought.

It was then that Hermione went quiet and Draco saw her staring into space, lost in her thoughts. He questioned it, and she said, “Just thinking back on the conversation today. I didn’t think he would have taken it so terribly.”

“Like I said, he should have moved on a long time ago. Maybe he needed someone else like Potter or his sister to tell him off.”

“I would never have asked them.”

That surprised him, weren’t people with friends supposed to be able to do that kind of thing? “And why not?”

“Because it’s my problem. I won’t involve them.”

She stared into her long empty glass of water and Draco took it from her hands, walked over to the kitchen and refilled it again. He could easily have used his wand but he needed a moment to himself. He stood there with the tap running, watching her. She folded her hands in her lap and she seemed about to wilt like a flower in the center of her blanket. She looked too small. Too weak. But he knew she wasn’t that at all. Hermione Granger was strong, and he respected her because of it.

He knew what it was like to have someone still want you. It was like slow torture to get them off your back. Though actually feeling guilty about it was sure to add on a lot of stress. If he’d felt guilty about Astoria, then he might be just as broken as she is right now. He might be at home, swaddled in a blanket, crying into his fire whiskey.

The only difference is that if such a thing happened to him, he wouldn’t have had someone with him. Someone to get the wrong tissues and blanket, the water. He would have been entirely and miserably alone.

Shutting off the tap he walked over and kneeled before her again, meeting her quizzical gaze before he handed her the glass. He swallowed his nerves and grabbed her face, watching the blush rise on her cheeks. “You’re strong Hermione, that idiot never deserved someone like you.”

Her eyes flicked between his rapidly, and he knew that look in her eyes. His stomach flipped “I know. I know.”

“You deserve better.” She just kept looking at him. It would be so easy to just—

Draco let his hands fall away and rose, standing to his full height. He moved to step away when Hermione shoved the blanket and set the water on her table to stood before him. After a moment’s hesitation she wrapped her arms around him.

He held her, too aware of how small she felt. Her hair tickled his mouth.

“Thank you again, Draco. I know the last few days have been awful, but it can only get better from here.”

He was too lost in his thoughts to say anything other than a rather dumb, “Yeah.

Hermione stepped away. “You better get home, it’s already pretty late. I’m going to take a nap I think.”

Draco nodded in agreement because she looked tired and her hair was starting to slip out of the pin she had it in, and she was pretty, and he didn’t know what he’d do if he stayed.

He parted with a promise to see her on Monday morning and saw himself out through her floo.

I’m screwed, he thought.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco immediately stepped from his floo and went to his study. He balled his fists and tried, hard, not to throw something. He was so _angry_ with the Weasel. And he was angry at himself for letting it happen.

He cared about her. He fucking cared. He _liked_ Hermione Granger like he was twelve again and had a crush. It was so baseless, so _ridiculous_ —

Was it?

With heavy footfalls he paced around back to his living room, throwing down his tie and shirt in the process, not really caring where they landed. He messed his hair with two frustrated hands and groaned at the thoughts flying through his head. He conjured a bottle of harsh liquor with a flourish of his wand and popped the cork with one thumb. Finally, with one great exhale, he flung himself onto his couch and slouched to where he was almost level with his coffee table.

Yes, he liked her. But there was no rational reason to be feeling the way he did, how deeply. To be reacting like he had been. He reasoned it was due to her sobbing. That raw let out of emotion had been completely new to him. He’d never witnessed such a completely open show of sentiment. Not from anyone. That required trust, and he didn’t often earn trust from people.

Perhaps it was because she was forced to trust him because he was her assigned guard. But that still didn’t seem quite right. Maybe it was the simple fact it was Hermione Granger. She had always been able to show her passion in any given situation, had always been able to rankle him second to none. Not even Potter managed to so thoroughly dig under his skin. He had seen her anger when she had hit him in third year. He had seen her happiness in school whenever she was with friends. Now he had seen her sadness. And all were as fierce as she allowed them to be. She didn’t seem the kind of person to keep her emotions inside, like he was so accustomed to doing. It was foreign to him. Yet there was still something off.

Something was missing. He couldn’t figure it out. He needed to know why she was affecting him this way after such a short time. He downed a particularly large gulp of the fiery liquor and it burned down his throat.

The only way to solve this was to watch her. To observe her reactions to him, how she treated him. He would find the answer to his strange reactions to her through her.

Draco closed his eyes and sighed. Maybe he really did just…like her. Maybe he did have a silly crush. He was nearly twenty-four, he was beyond this.

It was a dangerous feeling, and he didn’t know what to think of it.

In an instant his thoughts flashed to the Weasel. He had already hated the fool, but the newly added events of today only strengthened his desire to curse the imbecile. The fucking bastard deserved whatever was coming to him as far as Draco was concerned.

But then, _she_ probably wouldn’t like that. Would probably stop talking to him. And it was only a matter of time before she did regardless, when the killer was caught.

He took another drink and set the bottle down. The only thing he knew was he wanted the killer caught, and for Hermione to keep talking to him.

It gave him a headache to think about.

He felt his lids drooping fast, sleep hanging over him and didn’t fight it. The last thing that entered his mind was of Hermione saying his name, like it was the simplest action in the world. Like it didn’t mean anything had changed whatsoever.

\--

In the morning, Draco woke with heavy limbs and a headache. He opened his eyes and tried to blink it away, then he made the mistake of trying to sit up that failed utterly. He’d been sleeping in the same slouched position all night. With a painful groan, he willed himself to sit up all the way and battled through the onslaught of the hangover as thoughts from the previous night came back to him. He pictured Hermione’s face and for a moment the ache ebbed, but with the image came the confusing thoughts which only made the headache worse. He stood, wobbled, then sidled along his wall until he reached the safety of his bathroom where he could take a hot shower and hopefully rid himself of at least some hangover ails.

He had Blaise and Theo to meet this afternoon, he saw on his way to the bathroom that it was still morning, earlier then he usually rose even, probably only adding to the hangover, and he still had a good many hours before he had to meet them at The Hog’s Head. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to it, but he was curious to learn more of why exactly Blaise was hanging with Theo now after so long, and why Daphne was dating Blaise. He was almost certain that it was a ploy of her sister’s, but he couldn’t be sure. He’d find out today. It was even likely they could have information about the case.

As he stepped under the spray of the shower, he wondered briefly if he should check on Hermione, to see if she was alright from yesterday. But at the last moment, he thought better of what such an action could imply, and he didn’t want to let anything slip to her until he knew what to do about it.

\--

The Hog’s Head was busier than usual. Roadside travelers and residents of the shady sort found comfort in the ill lighted space of the bar and privacy afforded to their patrons. It didn’t take long to spot his friends. He ignored the glare from the man working the counter and walked past under the many watchful eyes of the customers. As soon as he took his seat the stares stopped, and they resumed their chatter.

Blaise caught wind of his mood. “They’re just surprised a Malfoy would drink here anymore.” Blaise was wearing a brown suit and dark robes that matched his usually eccentric taste in clothing, but he lacked the earlier cheer from the other day.

Draco nodded in agreement and said, a bit snappy, “Of course not. It’s a pit. I haven’t been here in years, why choose here?”

A blank expression passed over Blaise’s face and Theo answered instead. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and casual slacks, like he was going to a religious ceremony rather than drinks at a bar. “It’s the right sort of quiet.”

Draco caught the meaning. The Hog’s Head was filled with shady people, but not so shady as to be associated with the larger wizards in the dark arts. It was a simple place here, innocent compared to the places in Knockturn Alley. This also meant that Blaise had something important to discuss with him, not just a get together with friends. Draco made a sound of understanding. This was the Blaise he knew, not the smiling babbling idiot from earlier. Theo, he’d lost touch with after the war, mainly because the man chose to work abroad more often than not. They all went for dinner whenever he was in town, but the dark circles under his eyes, the way he was staring across at Draco, he could tell something had changed there.

“Then there’s more than casual gossip you wish to discuss, Blaise?” he asked.

Blaise flashed his teeth. “I heard a bit of info at the Ministry. Seems you’re working a case with Granger? That’s why you two have been so friendly lately?”

Draco glowered at him. Theo said nothing. So, there was news going around at the Ministry was there? He’d find out who the gossip was when he returned to work the next day. He decided to feign unknowing. Blaise wasn’t on the case and neither was Theo, so for all they knew it was hearsay. “And I suppose you hear and see a lot of things at the Ministry, Blaise. Working as an Auror after all, you are bound to hear all sorts of things.”

“True. I don’t get many chances to talk with a lot of my coworkers. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still get to observe.” That cheeky smile was back. Draco found he didn’t enjoy it.

Theo’s eye twitched.

Something was definitely off.

Theo had said nothing else and Draco was getting a little tense at that, but his posture and expression revealed nothing. So he continued, aiming a question at Theo. “So Theo, where did you two hear this rubbish?”

Theo’s expression didn’t change. He seemed too formal and Draco knew something was working in that brain of his. The cogs turning to throw him some false truth. He replied in a deceivingly innocent tone, “I do work in Files. I see you two walking around a lot. Catching the floo for work.”

“Are you fucking her?” Blaise asked, eyes teasing.

The question caught him Draco guard. He said nothing, didn’t even blink. And Blaise didn’t miss that.

Blaise tilted his head in a knowing way, laughed to himself, and Draco swallowed, knowing he’d made a mistake.

“Are you guarding her?” Theo questioned softly.

Ah. There it was. The true accusation. Draco smirked, not wanting to make another mistake. “You think I’d ever take such a pathetic position? Guard her? You two seem worried about it.”

Blaise’s eyes switched to somewhere behind Malfoy, then back to him. He answered, almost fussily picking out his words. “Just curious is all. Why you’d be hanging around a mudblood.”

A tiny prickle of discomfort tingled in his stomach, the anger from the night before spiking dangerously before he shouldered it and only hardened his stare at Blaise. He thought they were beyond this. “Granger may be muggle born, but she’s perfectly normal. You know yourselves that she scored higher than all three of us in school.”

Theo craned his neck to the right, kept his cold eyes focused solely on Draco. It was an odd and out of place movement. His calm eyes finally switched to Blaise’s profile. He spoke in a relaxed tone, “I happen to agree with Draco, Blaise. Being born by muggles has nothing to do with them as a person. It gives them a sense of pride in their powers and drives them to always strive for improvement. If anything, they are admirable.”

Blaise stared at Theo, obviously not expecting this coup from him. Suddenly, Blaise beeped from somewhere on his person and he withdrew something small from his inner coat pocket.

Just then a waitress appeared beside their table to take their orders. Draco declined, favoring to keep his food down today, and asked for coffee. Blaise stood when the waitress left and nodded at the table. “Seems I have been outnumbered in my opinion. Sorry Draco, Theo, but we’ll have to continue this another time, I’m being called back to the Ministry.”

He suddenly locked eyes with Draco, pointedly saying, “Seems there’s been an incident. It’s urgent and they are requiring all Aurors report immediately.”

“You better run off then,” Draco replied caustically. Draco was not on the level of a Ministry Auror, and the insult was not lost on him. They’d been friends for years, but most of the time they were downright gits to each other. He wondered if this was just a bit more serious than all the other times.

Blaise left the bar and Draco and Theo were alone. Their drinks floated over to them shortly after Blaise departed. Theo spun his whiskey wordlessly.

Theo finally sipped at his liquor. “I expect you think Blaise to be offensive.”

Draco considered being apathetic but told the truth, “Yes.”

Theo met his eyes, “And why do you take offense? We were both raised to hate them.”

“Ah, but I grew up.”

Theo hummed and looked out at those milling around the bar.

Theo was an enigma; this Draco had quickly learned when they were in school.

“You don’t believe in blood superiority either,” Draco commented, taking a gamble.

Theo took a moment and, not looking away from his drink, said, “I don’t.”

“I thought Blaise was past this. And what’s the deal with asking about Granger?”

Theo smirked to himself and said, “I shouldn’t tell you, Draco.”

Suspicion roared to life, but he kept it under control. “Yes. You should.”

Theo slowly met Draco’s eyes, matching the intensity of his glare with an even stare. “Why do you care such a great deal?” Draco had no answer to that so Theo continued. “I will tell you that I’m genuinely only curious why you’re spending so much time with her. I assumed it was because you find her attractive.” Draco’s brow furrowed and Theo’s smirk widened. “She is quite beautiful. Though I cannot speak of Blaise’s interest in her.”

“Why?” he pressed, forgetting his coffee.

“Because I don’t know. Blaise merely asked me to ask you about Granger, so I did.” He took another sip of his whiskey, clearly in no hurry to finish.

Draco realized that Theo was done speaking as he went back to his drink. He wouldn’t get anything more out of the wiry wizard, so he stood and laid a couple of galleons on the table. As he turned to leave, Theo’s voice held him rooted.

“Blaise is doing something in the Ministry. I don’t know what it is. But watch your back. And hers.”

Draco’s gaze did not soften but he regarded Theo with a touch more respect than before. “I am.”

\--

Hermione was much better today then she had been the night before. Last night was a example of pent up emotions that needed to come out. If she couldn’t be friends with Ron, then it was his fault. She had tried all she could to be friends with him, but he simply wouldn’t allow it.

It still hurt. It would always hurt, she suspected, but she’d live. She had other friends. There was Molly and Arthur, George, Ginny and Harry, Luna and Neville….Even Draco. They had been pleasant to each other, so much so she liked having his company. And last night, something had changed between them. He had been there for her, and she had needed that more than anything else.

She hadn’t had anyone _there_ for her the entire last year.

She thought with a wary heart, _Ron’s behavior affected my life more then I realized._

Hermione warmed at the thought of having her friends there for her, for the frantic way Draco had acted last night trying to take care of her. He’d been so out of his element it was funny, but she found she’d felt a great amount of care for him last night. That sort of scared her. But it was happening, and she wasn’t one to fight such things.

So yes, she could call him her friend.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in and out deeply and laughed at herself. She must’ve lost a bit of sanity last night, because she never thought she’d feel anything remotely friendly towards Draco Malfoy. Yet she couldn’t wipe the stupid smile from her face as her eyes welled with tears with every emotion that was running through her. Every few seconds, something would remind her of Ron and it would break her heart all over again, like a year had never passed at all.

Though the rational part of her knew this would not last forever, that time went on and pain ebbed on a daily basis, she still ached knowing that the next few weeks would likely be like this.

Hermione shifted in bed until the covers were bunched over her head. She hugged her pillow to her under the blankets and squeezed her eyes and groaned into her pillow, emotionally exhausted.

She was startled out of this when she heard a sharp snap at her front door. She stilled immediately and waited, her heart thumping fearfully in her chest. Oh Merlin, let it not be Draco, if he saw her like this he’d probably berate her for carrying on so late in the afternoon, still dressed in pajamas.

Hermione waited, and no more knocks persisted. She knew if it was Draco and he really needed to speak with her, he’d simply floo right into her living room. So, whoever caused the loud snap at her door wasn’t him.

The momentary shock left her and was replaced with the sudden need to be cautious and she jerked out of bed. An anxious worry spread through her. If it wasn’t him, then who could it be? She tiptoed to her front door, not blinking until she yanked the door open with a flick of her wand. She looked around and saw no one. Gradually she felt the worry leave her but it renewed as she saw a small shoe box at the foot of her door. She waved her wand and levitated it inside. She didn’t have a good feeling about it.

She settled herself on her couch with the box on her table and gripped her wand. With her hands in her lap, she closed her eyes, caught her breath for a long minute before she looked down at the box again.

Should she floo Draco? No, she could handle it herself. And he needed a day to himself she was sure.

She carefully waved her wand and removed the lid from the box.

As she laid eyes on the contents, the breath left her as she gazed at it, something not quite like fear settling hard in her throat as she lowered her wand.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco had only debated with himself a moment before he decided to head to Granger’s house and tell her of the strange observations he’d made while at lunch with Theo and Blaise. There was something suspicious about Blaise’s behavior, and Theo’s statement had only reinforced that suspicion.

Theo’s words had sent a chill through Draco. This was getting ridiculous. He was supposed to be guarding Granger, not hunting a muggle killer and spying on his supposedly ‘best friend’.

Could he even really call him that?

Their friendship had been nothing more than convenience in the hierarchy of the Slytherin house. Two of the most respected members of the revered house, everyone knew their names, and everyone knew their story. It was only expected they become friends. Or enemies.

Maybe it was still too early to tell.

He pictured the days at Hogwarts when Blaise, Pansy, and him were the best of friends, conniving and mean, and denial surged in him at Blaise being any sort of suspect in the case. They had been loyal and stuck to their guns, but now through the years, they hadn’t seen Pansy at all, and he’d grown apart from Blaise. He didn’t really know him anymore. And Blaise didn’t know Draco.

A lot had changed in four years. He wondered at it a moment before he cleared his mind of only one thing and, bracing himself, turned and apparated to Hermione’s home.

\--

He already had his wand drawn to lower the wards to her front door when he arrived. He supposed it would have been quicker to apparate first to his flat, then just floo directly into her living room, but the first thing that had come to mind was her front door. He heard nothing when he knocked and wondered if she was even home. But he waited and soon he heard muffled steps from the other side. A click and turn and the door was opening, and as soon as he saw her he knew something else had happened. She looked haunted, even as her lips tilted when she saw him.

A swell of familiar concern filled him, and his mind went immediately to the party, with Ron. That same look had come over her face and then she had cried. But there were no tears this time. His eyes narrowed but he kept quiet.

Her eyes shifted to somewhere over his shoulder, then back to his and her full lips twitched delicately. Then she suddenly grabbed his hand and just pulled him after her as she walked into her living room towards the couch. His first reaction was to startle but seeing that she was obviously disturbed by something he allowed her to lead him. That nervous mix of anxiousness, anger, and fear led his thoughts to all the possibilities of why she was acting like this. He still thought of only one person, and that was Ron. Anger finally dominated everything else and he set a solid glare on his face as they walked.

She was wearing the same pajamas from the night before, when he’d left her here on her couch. Had she even slept? Had she eaten? He didn’t see any plates on her kitchen counter. He bit his tongue and kept from saying anything. _Wait, just wait_.

But all thought fled the second she pushed him onto the couch and stood over him, crossing her arms and frowning at a small box on the coffee table. What was inside didn’t register at first. Then all the memories of the week before, every moment spent regarding the case and the meetings with Harry, his mother, Theo and Blaise all came slamming into him with a sickening clench of his stomach. The smell of blood hit him, and he pressed his mouth in a thin line, paling.

A tiny decapitated dove was lying on its side in the upper corner of the box, as if it had been tossed in. Its little legs curled into its body. The bird’s blood nearly covered the box and stained the white of its feathers. It was disgusting.

When he wrenched his eyes away and met hers he saw that she’d been watching for his reaction. That haunted look was filled with something else now—resolve. She shook her head slowly. He slowly closed his eyes, forced his hands to run the length of his face and to rub his temples before he clasped them in his lap and looked up at her again.

He’d been here for minutes and they still had said nothing. So much had been conveyed in their silence.

\--

What did this mean? The killer knew where she lived. It was only a matter of time now.

Hermione watched Draco sit in silence on her couch. He was staring up at her with those ever intense grey eyes of his that seemed to be always looking for something more to the situation. As if there was a hidden truth he hadn’t yet learned. She worried what he could read in her own face, but it couldn’t really be helped, she was too emotionally drained to keep anything hidden right now.

This was too much.

When she first discovered the dove just over an hour ago, she was shocked. Then she was disgusted. Disgusted as she took in the red greasy feathers, the stump of its neck seeping onto the wood of the box. It was sick.

It was a message. A reminder that she was a target.

Dully, it hadn’t come as much of a shock then as it sunk in. She was disgusted with it yes, the message was clear. And yet, she wasn’t terrified of whoever sent it. Perhaps it hadn’t really sunk in as much as she thought.

As if reading her mind he asked, voice rough, “Are you hurt?”

“No. It was just at my doorstep.”

“When did you find it?” He stood and with his tall frame, loomed before her. He kept his hands at his sides. His eyes still fixed solely on her.

“About an hour ago. Someone knocked and left it here. I thought it was you, but I figured you would have just used the floo, so I waited a while and then opened the door to that box.”

He cast another weary glance at the box then at the door, then back to her. His calm remained intact but she noticed his jaw clench. He was holding back his anger, and she was grateful for that. “So, you didn’t see who left… _this_.” He sneered and for all of a moment he looked every bit as snide as the old Malfoy was in school.

Hermione breathed deeply and blinked a few times, she was tired of this. One after the other, horrid things just kept happening. It was mental overload, but it only served to refocus her on the case she wasn’t technically allowed to work on.

She crossed her arms and shifted her weight, saying with a sigh, “No. There was only the box. And yes,” she said, sensing his next question, “I did have my wand. I’m not completely stupid. Like I said, I thought it was you.”

Draco didn’t look convinced. He withdrew his wand and waved for the lid of the box which was nearby. He paused for a moment, staring at it a lingering second before he pocketed his wand again. He ran a hand through his hair and it fell in his eyes. A jolt shot through her as he spoke again, “I never said you were stupid.” He bit his lip. “What if whoever sent this was still hanging around here?”

“The killer wouldn’t be able to stick around. The wards are still intact so there’s no way he could have walked up and rang my doorbell. It must have been a series of spells that did it.”

Draco waved a hand towards her door. “Hermione. There could have been dark magic in that box!”

She frowned and her brown eyes hardened, “It wasn’t dark magic.”

“You had no way of knowing!” His calm was beginning to slip as he raised his voice. Hermione had expected this and she was certain of where it would end up, but she wouldn’t back down.

“I wasn’t just going to leave it outside! I had my wand, and the wards would have sensed the dark magic.”

He narrowed his eyes and questioned, “Why didn’t you contact me?”

Draco had her there. She really hadn’t thought of it. There was the box, she opened it, and she sat staring at a dead dove for the better part of an hour. Still, the threat hadn’t prompted panic in her. She felt safe. How could he blame her for not calling on him like a damsel in distress? He knew who she was.

Hermione raised her voice now and threw her arms out. “Because I had it under control!”

“You obviously didn’t because if you did you wouldn’t have even opened the bloody door! You would have flooed me and I could have gotten here to check the wards sooner. By now, whoever it was could have reset half the wards!”

“Draco-”

“He could have gotten in. It could have been the killer!”

“I _know_ it was the killer, I—”

“An even _better_ reason to keep the damned door shut, Hermione! You could have been attacked, he-”

“DRACO!” she shouted at him. A little taken aback, Draco dumbly closed his mouth and his stunned expression turned to a glare. He was officially angry. But Hermione was angry too, and if anything, they were a match in fury. “I can take care of myself! I’m fine. I’m standing here, still alive and perfectly alright. You just weren’t the first thing that popped in my mind.”

“You can take of yourself?” He rolled his eyes, “Then I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even be here right now. I was _only_ hired for _your safety_. But I can see you’re smothered by your own blind stupidity to think that you’re completely protected by just yourself.” He balled his fists and shoved them in his pockets.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that you think you only have your own bloody self to rely on. That’s bullshit, given the situation.”

A stony glare from Hermione and he grunted in frustration, continuing on, “If the killer was here, they very likely could have overpowered you. Without me here, you could have died. I can’t do my job if you’re dead.” He stopped, pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and breathed out. Trying to calm down, he locked eyes with her again and said more gently, “Last night? After that, you’re going to just toss me to the side?”

“I still don’t understand what you mean.” But she did. She did and the way he was looking at her just then was making her more nervous than the threat on her table.

He spoke slowly and with a strained voice, as if it was hard for him to be speaking at all. “Hermione. You aren’t the only one you can count on. Just…fuck. I don’t know. You can’t just ask me to not protect you when I’m _supposed_ to and…I’m here for you, and—ugh—You don’t have to be entirely and miserably alone!”

Hermione felt her stomach flip. He was angry because he was worried. It dawned on her in a single moment, but it only took a single moment of her not answering for Draco to turn around and start walking for the door.

Her fingers twitched, she bit her lip, and as soon as his fingers skimmed the doorknob, the words in her throat died. The steps she wanted to take wouldn’t come. The moment she realized Draco Malfoy cared for her well being, her _life_ , he was walking out the door.

As it clicked shut behind him, she felt her chest ache.

\--

Draco apparated back to his flat within seconds of leaving her house. He had said too much. He was reluctant to have even admitted all that to himself, and there he was just spewing it out to her like it was a common fact.

Fuck.

He eyed his bookshelf, braced himself against it with his head bent towards the floor. He was met by the spines of the books on the bottom shelf, and coincidentally the spine of that awful party planning book Astoria had thrown at him before he kicked her out. He almost forgot he had placed it there. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe, his clothes too tight, his skin too hot. He tore off his jacket, his tie, ripped the buttons on his shirt as he threw it all to the ground and finally just stood there, breathing hard. His chest heaved and he pushed against the bookshelf, slammed open palms against it. Then, immediately taken by anger, he flung an entire shelf to the floor.

He stormed into his bathroom and hit the faucet for the ice-cold water. He splashed it on his face until his face hurt, squeezing his eyes together, trying to stop the ridiculous thoughts in his head.

A killer was after Hermione.

Blaise was most definitely up to something.

Blaise was a bloody _suspect_.

Theo knew something.

Hermione could have died today.

_I wasn’t there to stop it. I couldn’t do anything, again._

Something could have happened. It would have been his fault if he wasn’t there to have helped her. It was his job, his _duty_ to protect her. He’d be ruined beyond return if he was the inevitable cause of famous Golden Girl’s Hermione Granger’s death. But there was more to it than a simple need to carry out his job. More than a need to keep his name out of the papers.

He ran wet hands through his blond locks and pushed it all back until he vaguely recognized who he used to be. The spoiled child who was too ignorant to know what a real friend was. He blinked as hot angry tears dotted his eyes as he realized he’d changed. He’d changed _so_ much.

He didn’t know Blaise. Not truly.

He didn’t have a girlfriend who he used to love.

He was past childhood ignorance and blood superiority.

His family was a fractured mess.

_And I care for Hermione Granger_.

He turned and sunk down to a sitting position on the tiles of his bathroom floor. He let himself cry.

Why did he always have to ruin everything?

\--

Come Monday, Hermione was eager to see Draco in the morning as he’d usually floo with her to work. She was anxious to see how he’d react to her. She hoped he had calmed down, seen that she was right about how she’d had control of the situation.

Of course, she knew he was right too…he had admitted through strained words that she wasn’t alone in this. She had _him_. Draco was there for her. He just didn’t know how to say it. So he’d stormed out, beyond angry at her, maybe a little angry at himself.

Hermione chewed her bottom lip as she watched her clock tick away the minutes before work started. Today would be a new day, a happy day. She’d do the right thing and apologize to him, tell him he was right, to a certain extent. He knew she didn’t like being watched constantly. And she now knew, fully, that she had him to count on.

Not just as a guard, but as her friend. He cared about her.

It warmed her heart at the thought of it. That after barely a week reunited, they had been able to connect like they had. It was a strange, abstract thought. Feeling friendship towards a once-enemy. But something she could get used to. She smiled to herself but then sobered up.

She needed to talk to him first before allowing herself to daydream about anything after that.

So when she watched the green flames flare in her floo, she stood and held her robes to her in a friendly posture, ready to face him.

But as the large and square figure of Paul emerged, her mind blanked and she slouched, understanding why he was here.

Draco was still angry.

Paul, slowly and lazily brushing the invisible soot off of his robes said, “Mister Malfoy will be busy throughout today, as he will most likely be the next few weeks. So he asked me to escort you for the time being.” He gave her a very Paul-like smile but she could only glare at the fireplace as she shouldered past him.

If this is how he was going to play, then she could play too.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione ignored Paul when they emerged in the main part of the Ministry. She had been the one to call out the floor and she intended to go straight to Harry this morning. She needed to report the threat she’d received. If Draco hadn’t already done it. Though it was barely eight in the morning and the Ministry was hardly full this early.

Just as she briskly walked away from him, she heard him say dumbly that he would see her in her office at lunch. She rolled her eyes and kept walking, clutching the front of her robes together.

As she walked she kept out watchful eyes for any sight of Draco but she didn’t see him. The entire way there the same thought kept crawling back into her mind as soon as she had managed to push it away.

_What if he asked to be reassigned?_

But the logical part of her refused it by remembering that he was the one assigned to the task and he wasn’t an Auror. He wasn’t technically on the case. He was her guard. So he couldn’t very well ditch her.

At least she hoped not.

Hermione had never given up and left things open ended, not with anything. She worried until they were fixed or figured out. And if they weren’t…well she didn’t leave things as unknowns if she could help it. She knew this situation was a fragile one, but it _was_ fixable. If he made it difficult, which he already was, then she would make him listen to what she had to say.

It was only a bloody dove for Merlin’s sake.

But the message had been clear, and his reaction had been a sobering one. It was the appropriate reaction to have from his stand point. She wasn’t one to faint from stress or be afraid for nothing. While the threat certainly wasn’t _nothing_ , she knew it wouldn’t do any good to sit and be afraid. Not when she could do something about it.

Her eyes hardened as she remembered the fear she’d experienced during the war. All the hiding and running and constant threat of death at her back every day. She’d been afraid. And she overcame her fears then.

This wasn’t even comparable to those times.

Draco had been on the run too. So he should be able to understand her argument. He couldn’t fight logic.

The only problem was getting him to listen.

A turn and she found herself at Harry’s office door. She didn’t bother knocking and just walked in. There was no one there other than a focused looking Harry bent over his filing cabinet.

Harry turned and straightened up when he saw her standing in his doorway. He smiled and closed the cabinet drawer as she shut the door behind her. She stood there in front of his desk as he took a seat. She could see the question in his eyes, why wasn’t she sitting? But she was there for a reason so she withdrew from her bag a miniatured version of the box.

As she set it before him, he asked her what it was and she only waved her wand and restored it to its original size. He looked confused, and she said, “I received this last night, from the killer.” Another flourish of her wand and the lid was removed. She watched as his eyes widened and snapped to hers.

“Hermione! What happened? Did you see who it was?” He moved to her side as the words rushed out of him. “Did you tell Malfoy? Was he there? Oh my God, Hermione,” She found herself in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry, too many questions.”

“No, it’s alright. I didn’t see who left it, but I know it’s the killer. And no, he wasn’t there…not when I found it anyway.” She looked down and as he pulled away he caught the agitation there.

“But…?” he pressed. He met her gaze pointedly.

She frowned. “He arrived an hour after. He was angry with me for not calling him right away. I know I should have flooed him, I just didn’t think of it…”

Harry’s brows pulled down. “You know how he is. He’s just an angry person. It’s normal, Hermione” She was glad that he didn’t press her about why she didn’t floo Draco.

She debated with herself. She couldn’t exactly tell him that she knew Draco cared for her to some extent. That she considered him a friend. She wasn’t sure how Harry would take it and she didn’t want to risk another fight. “No. It was…different. He assigned Paul to watch me for the next few weeks.”

Harry looked confused again then mad. “That’s not really up to him, seeing as how he was assigned as your _guard_. What happened? Did you slug him again?” He smirked but it faded when he saw her expression. “Sorry.”

Taking steps towards the door, she said, “I’ll leave the box with you Harry, I have to find Draco.”

Something seemed to pass behind Harry’s eyes as she said Draco’s name, and she realized she hadn’t called him by his surname. Thankfully he didn’t question it and instead said, “Okay, but what could this mean? A beheaded dove?”

As she exited his office, she stopped in his doorway and said, locking eyes with his. “The killer is telling my hope is dead. At least that it should be.”

Harry looked bewildered but she knew he’d figure it out with some thought so she left him in his office to work it out with himself. She had a stubborn angry blond to find.

She took a step and was met with the figure of another. He was tall with a closely shaved head. He was carrying thick manila file folders and was wearing a standard Slytherin issue tie. She hadn’t thought anyone still wore those silly things they gave out at school in your house. But she ignored it as she met his amused stare. It was Blaise Zabini, she realized. She hadn’t seen him around much, even before the war and was surprised she hadn’t seen him at work more often.

She quickly collected herself and reigned in her surprise as she created space between them and stumbled out, “Oh, um, I’m sorry for that. I didn’t see you.”

His dark eyes bore into her and she felt deeply unnerved the longer the silence dragged on. It was becoming uncomfortable but finally he smirked at her and reached out a large hand. “Granger! Haven’t seen you since school.”

Hermione shook it, still somewhat put off by the larger man. “Oh, yes, it’s been a long time. We’ve never talked that much, how have you been?”

“Oh, so true. I’m very well.” He released her hand and she felt a tension in her arm relax. She hadn’t been aware of it. “I heard about your…dilemma recently.”

No apology. She found it strange since that’s all anyone had been giving her if they were an Auror and were aware of the case. Was he on the case? She nodded and it occurred to her he might know where Draco was. “I don’t suppose you know where Malfoy is?”

A humorous look passed over him and he said, “Last time I saw him was yesterday around four, actually. My apologies.”

Around four…

She subdued a frown and said instead, “Hm. Well if you see him tell him I’m looking for him. I need to give him some files.”

Blaise nodded, a smirk firmly set on his lips and she nodded a farewell as they parted ways. He walked back the way he’d come, though it had seemed he was about to enter Harry’s office before she had bumped into him. There was no reason to change plans just because they had bumped into each other.

Something about the whole encounter seemed off.

As Hermione headed to her own office she realized that he had mentioned he’d seen Draco yesterday at four. That was around the time Draco had arrived at her flat. She realized that he must have met with him, possibly about the case. It could have been likely that he was agitated already from Blaise by the time he’d arrived at her house. She decided to ask him about it when she got the chance to talk to him.

But in the mean time, she’d take to work in her own office.

\--

Hermione had grown so used to being with Draco during her breaks, before and after work, the past weekend, that when she’d successfully had twenty minutes of uninterrupted silence at her desk it felt strange. She could work on S.P.E.W. or something else. She chose instead to pour over the list of names again, trying to see if she’d missed anything.

But as she checked away the various names of possible suspects, she was beginning to doubt from personal experience with them in the war, and as students in school, that they weren’t exactly a fit. Not one of them. She had spent a good couple of hours doing research on each individual person and it just didn’t add up that they’d be the killer. Some seemed likely, but farfetched.

For instance, Rodolphus Lestrange had a reason for killing her—she’d had a part in his wife’s death. Though she did not directly kill Bellatrix, she could still see how he could want revenge on her. But he was in Azkaban for crimes against muggle-borns and Wizarding society for the rest of his life so there was no way he was coming after her anytime soon. Any word of a breakout would have been front page news, and Hermione would have been one of the first to hear of it, but nothing like that had been reported within the last year. She scrawled down his name on a notepad along with a few others, but they all seemed inadequate. Perhaps she should hit the files herself to see if she could dig anything up. Studying had always been among her top talents.

She set the papers down and all too soon found herself done with work. S.P.E.W. didn’t even require much thought to finish today as it was so routine. Nothing new. She rested her chin on her hand and stared at the back of her door, admiring its woodwork.

A quick look at her clock told her it was almost lunch. She’d been working through those lists for hours and had found barely anything.

_I heard about your dilemma recently…._

The image of Zabini’s cold black eyes dashed through her mind.

She wrote his name down.

\--

Draco sat in the muggle café drinking his coffee in tense silence. He itched to use his wand to cool the drink as it was too hot. All around him the hustle and bustle of busy hands and clumsy actions of muggles filled the café. He glared into his cup and waited for Theo to arrive.

Yesterday had not been enough. It left him with more questions than answers, and it made him anxious to think of Blaise as any sort of suspect in the case. Theo knew something, and Draco would find out what it was.

It was his only choice if he wanted to do his job right.

He had research to do, reconnaissance on Blaise, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to watch Hermione _and_ Blaise simultaneously, not unless he had no intention of sleeping at night. He thought back to their conversation, remembered the look on her face before he’d left.

_Perhaps Gryffindors are immune to complete understanding of a dangerous situation. That must be what gives them their renowned courage. They’re just too ignorant to know fear when it’s in front of them._ He sighed. Waitresses kept stopping at his table and offering him a menu and he was beginning to think they were ignoring his refusal of food just to annoy him.

Theo suddenly appeared around the corner outside and, not noticing Draco in the window seat, walked right past him. The blond waited as Theo walked inside and was pointed to the appropriate table. The waitress from before was surprised to see a face and focused all attempts of service on Theo. Draco expected him to squirm under the intense attention, but he simply held up a hand, shook his head and politely declined. The waitress left with a bitter look in her eyes.

“Short notice. I assumed you would have just told me yesterday if you wanted to meet again,” Theo told him as he sat across the small table.

“I wasn’t aware Blaise was up to something when we first spoke.”

“What makes you suspect him of being up to something?” His lips curved.

Draco fought hard against his initial instinct to yell at the wizard. His patience was thin, “You told me to watch mine and Granger’s backs. That’s plenty of reason.”

“But has he given you any reason to suspect him prior to yesterday’s outburst?”

“Outburst?” Draco questioned.

“When he called her a mudblood. You visibly tensed as if you wanted to hit him.” Draco bit the inside of his mouth. Theo was observant to the extreme.

“It was uncalled for, but I’d hardly call it an outburst.”

Theo laughed quietly. “You were both losing your tempers. But it hardly matters today because we are here for a different reason. You owled me rather early in the morning. Most are still asleep then you know.”

Draco hadn’t been able to sleep last night because he couldn’t stop thinking about how Blaise could be involved. He sipped his coffee again, much cooler now. “You’re here aren’t you?”

“Yes. I suppose I am,” Theo said, his humor leaving him.

Silence. Draco and Theo waited as the waitress once again asked each of them if they wanted anything. Theo ordered a plate of small sandwiches and a glass of iced tea. Draco ignored the woman.

“It wasn’t the first time Blaise has approached me about her.” Draco narrowed his eyes at Theo’s words. But he had no time to reply as Theo was talking again. “Months ago, he asked me about her history.”

“History? That’s pretty obvious to anyone who reads the newspaper.”

“Exactly, I said as much, and he dropped it. Until about three weeks ago, when he asked me what office she worked in.”

Draco’s felt his stomach clench and his heart raced, “What did he want to know that for?”

“I don’t know. I had no answer for him. He’d let it go I assumed. But he asked again about a week ago. He wanted to know where she’d been living. I was annoyed by his determination with her—it was strange. But he justified it by telling me he was romantically interested in her. Though I think we both know that is a lie.”

Draco scoffed across the table and sat back in his seat. It had been just a little over a week and a half ago that Potter had found the first body. And he had never seen Blaise interact with Hermione before. Or even mention her in all the years it had been since school. He’d never even heard him refer to her in any way other than neutral, and the sudden single insult yesterday had made it very clear what he thought of her. Draco wondered what had happened between the war and now that had made Blaise so vocal.

But he wondered why he would talk to Theo at all. Theo wasn’t an Auror, he was in files. He’d seen Blaise on more than one occasion, and talked to him quite a lot. Then something occurred to him. Hermione’s job was half filing work, so she was in and out of Theo’s department on a regular basis. Enough for Blaise to notice. That made sense, because Blaise was an Auror, and Aurors constantly accessed information for case files.

Theo was simply the middleman.

“Is that all he’s ever asked about her?” Draco asked, palms sweating.

Theo scratched a hand through his hair. “All of it. If he’s ever confronted her himself I am unaware of it.”

Draco couldn’t very well take a risk and tell Theo about the case or he’d be out of a job, or worse, they could be a threat to Hermione. What he was doing right now was against the rules technically speaking, but he couldn’t very well approach Harry with the idea that there was a corrupt Auror underneath him. It was matter he had to handle himself. He had to take a risk. Until he knew everything he needed to.

“Theo. Have you ever noticed something off about him Blaise especially in the last few weeks? Or if he’s been missing from work?”

Theo thought for a moment, and continued when the waitress arrived with his order. She left, giving up on Draco altogether. Theo ate a small sandwich before he answered, “I mostly only see him when he needs files, but the last few Mondays he’s not come around and those are our busiest days. I imagine for Aurors it’d be hectic. And I didn’t see him last Sunday either, and that’s when we meet at The Hog’s Head usually.”

“Sunday before last?” Draco pressed, gripping his coffee tightly. That was the day of the first murder.

Theo nodded and that was all Draco needed before he impatiently asked his next question, “Where is he today? In the Ministry, where would he be working?”

Theo started on another sandwich and said, “Since my lunch is before his, he’d be in his office, getting ready to leave for his lunch. Auror level.”

Draco threw some muggle coins on the table and nearly ran out of the café, leaving a confused and flustered few waitresses in his path.

Theo continued to eat his meal as if nothing happened.

\--

As soon as Draco was within the Ministry’s walls, he ran to the lifts. He was nearly vibrating, ready to spring for the office he knew would be empty when they sounded for the Auror level. By now, Blaise would be at lunch Merlin knows where. He kept his eyes locked on the entrance, ignoring the witches and wizards crammed around him.

The level chimed and as soon as the space was wide enough, he squeezed through and bolted to where he knew Blaise’s office was. He barged in, knowing it was free and clear of any sign of the man. He wasn’t sure if Blaise always kept his office unlocked, but it wasn’t a chance he would miss.

Draco went straight to the desk and quickly realized the only papers on it were ones for minor cases. Mainly ones he’d already signed off. He quickly went through the drawers and found nothing of importance. No dates that jumped out at him. The cabinets were full of past assignments that had nothing to do with Hermione. He looked at the clock, every second ticked by was a step closer for Blaise and Draco needed to search faster.

He went through a small shelf and found only books, no papers tucked in between. The nooks on his desk and cabinets had either office supplies or dust.

Draco turned and glanced behind the door, and found empty space. He leaned there with frustrated hands on his head. There was a headache coming on and he ground his teeth, cursing Blaise.

He heard voices near the door and recognized the deep vibrato of Blaise and his heart hammered against his chest. He would have to come back another time. Immediately, he withdrew his wand and cast a Disillusionment charm on himself. He urged it to work faster as Blaise stepped into his office and luckily went straight to his desk without closing the door. Draco knew that if he moved and Blaise was looking right at him, he’d notice the ripple of difference. But he needed something, this couldn’t be for nothing. He stepped behind Blaise as he withdrew a file from under his arm and wrote off a list of names. Draco saw him scribble down _Rachelle_. His mind registered that was the dead muggle Potter had found last week, but the rest weren’t familiar to him.

He moved as quickly as he could to the door and bolted around the corner before the charm wore off. His heart beat hard in relief.

His spirits fell when he realized what he’d just witnessed.

Blaise _was_ involved.

\--

Draco was surprised to see Potter sitting in the guest seat of his own office when he returned. And he could sense that he was pissed by the hard set of his eyes and the clench of his jaw. That look had been directed at him for seven years. He took a seat and asked, “What is it Potter?”

“Hermione told me you ditched her?”

“I do not _ditch_ , Potter. I put her in the care of Paul for awhile, while I…take care of some research.” He realized he’d slipped and inwardly cringed at his mistake.

“Research?” Potter said, unconvinced. “Your job is to protect Hermione, at all times. Paul was assigned for when you couldn’t make one or two lunches or afternoons. You are her primary guard, not Paul.”

“Merlin, Potter, she’s a grown woman, she can handle herself with Paul for a few days.”

“Days?” Draco nodded as if he was stupid, and Potter, his anger somewhat dissipating said, “Paul had told her weeks, not days.” He adjusted his glasses. Draco shook his head, knowing Paul wasn’t only dull but also daft. “I’ll straighten it out, but she’s worried.”

“What do you mean?”

“She said you two had a fight?”

Draco scoffed. “Potter, adults argue, surely you know that.”

Potter rolled his eyes at that. “Yes, but you two have a different history of arguing. I need to know you will be able to continue to work together peaceably until we figure out whoever sent her that box and committed those murders.”

Draco nodded seriously. “She told you about the dove?”

Potter curled his lip as he thought back on it. “She showed it to me this morning.”

“And I suspect she didn’t tell you _why_ it was that we argued?”

Harry was quiet when he said, “Not exactly no. She told me you arrived there an hour after she found it.”

“I’m her guard, and she didn’t contact me when she found the box, so I could do my job. She thinks she can do everything herself.”

Harry smiled and for a moment it threw him. “Then you’re getting to know Hermione.”

Draco only stared at him. “I suppose I am.”

“What research are you doing?”

“I think you know, Potter.”

Harry chuckled. “Strangely, I think I do.” Draco let out an amused huff. He watched as Harry rose and said, “Just talk to Hermione. She worries about everything and she usually needs someone to disagree with her to get her mind off things. Otherwise she keeps worrying and analyzing. If anything, you’ll be able to disagree with her better than I or Ron ever could.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at the mention of Ron’s name and Harry acquiesced a knowing nod. He argued with himself for a moment about what he’d learned and figured it couldn’t hurt now that was all out in the open. “Blaise Zabini. Remember him?”

Harry didn’t take long to answer. “He’s an Auror in my level of offices.”

“He’s been doing some research of his own around the Ministry.”

“About?” he asked, eyes dark.

Draco’s eyes softened as he said slowly, “I think you know who.”

Harry’s posture deflated a little, a mirror for the way Draco had felt coming out of his office.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Potter muttered, closing the door behind him.

This way he wouldn’t have to sacrifice guarding Hermione for watching Blaise.

But not yet. He needed to think for the next few days. He’d talk to Hermione, and knew that she’d be as stubborn in a few days as she would be right now. So she could wait. Blaise and Theo demanded his full attention right now.

\--

It had been four days since she’d last seen any sign of Draco Malfoy. It was like he’d dropped off the face of the earth. Hermione didn’t even know if he was avoiding her anymore, for all she knew the killer had gotten him first and no one thought to tell her.

_Oh well._

She rolled her eyes at herself, snorting at the thought. She knew that wasn’t the reason.

She had gone about her regular duties in S.P.E.W. and managed to pass four simultaneous mornings, lunches, and afternoons with Paul who seemed absolutely determined to lead an annoyingly average life. She wondered if the man had ever screamed or gotten in a fight. Had he even had good sex before? Oh good Merlin, she didn’t want to picture that.

She washed her mind of her frivolous thoughts as she tried to refocus on her work. A group of centaurs were going to be homeless soon due to a large section of their forest being torn down by a muggle corporation. She was looking to relocate them in a magical forest in Eastern Europe but was having a hard time finding non-conflicting zones with other centaur territories. But no matter how hard she tried, she found herself plagued with curiosity on Draco’s whereabouts.

Slowly, the inevitable feeling of that all too familiar rejection hit her, that she’d been left by yet another friend. It was a stupid feeling that lasted barely a minute, before she kicked herself for wallowing in self pity. She knew he had to come back eventually, it was his job. And she knew he liked her, a little bit, somewhere. Enough to care. She thought she was his friend too.

It made her stomach flip to think about.

And that was what made her anxious to find him. She needed to know what the day of their argument had been about. She knew it was more than he’d let on. His parting words had been telling and it had moved something between them. She knew something had changed again between them. She only hoped he was just busy with casework in his own department.

And above everything else, she wanted to tell him about her awkward encounter with Zabini.

She just couldn’t find him! She’d been looking everywhere for a flash of white blond hair, the loping gait she’d gotten used to, but somehow he’d eluded her. She’d gone by his office enough times in the last four days to probably be able to walk the distance with her eyes closed and not run into anything. And she’d seen it enough to know he wasn’t just hiding away in there twenty-four-seven either. Either he was specifically keeping out of her way, or it was a series of incredibly annoying coincidences.

So, as she set down her map of Eastern European magical centaur territories, she set herself to stay outside his door all day if she had to so that he’d be forced to at least acknowledge her.

Hermione quickly walked her way to his office and a single onceover told her he was out once again, wherever he went off to. So she rested her hands behind her bum and leaned against the wall.

And she waited.

A lot of passersby gave her strange looks, fully aware of who she was and whose door she was standing beside, but continued on their way with gossiping voices about why she could possibly be there. She ignored them all, and kept a keen eye out for Draco. It had been about a half an hour since she began staking out and she intended to stand there all day if she had too, but she realized she’d have to sit soon if she didn’t want to kill herself in heels.

An hour and a half later found the office at three in the afternoon. Many were getting ready to leave for meetings or for the day. But still she stood there, waiting for him. A few even said their goodbyes to her as they left for their respective homes. She offered quick smiles and few words.

Draco, dressed as his usual impeccable self, rounded the corner with his head down. He was rolling up his sleeves as he saw Hermione standing there before his door and the corner of his mouth twitched awkwardly. His eyes darted to her mouth and back to her eyes once. She swallowed. Cautiously, he opened his door for her, perfect politeness, however her anger was palpable as she whirled on him once he shut the door.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Letting you into my office,” he deadpanned. He didn’t sit, instead placing his hands in his pockets. She could see the tendons in his arms.

“I mean since the dove in the box. You charged off without a word.”

He released a held breath. “You weren’t listening to me.”

“I was. You just left before I could answer you.” She crossed her arms.

Draco seemed to not know what she meant and she continued, “I know what you meant by what you said. It was just…different coming from you. I didn’t expect it.”

Silence from him as he stared down at her. She kept talking, “I know I should have flooed you when I found the box. I just shut down when I saw it and didn’t think of anything. I just kept imagining how it was during the war. I’m used to threats, Draco. So of course, my first thought wouldn’t be running to my bloody body guard.”

He continued to regard her silently and then nodded after what seemed a long time. Quietly he said, “Next time, it has to be.”

Hermione uncrossed her arms and, after a moment’s hesitation placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It will be.” His grey eyes shot to where she touched him and before he could say anything to make it awkward, she removed her hand.

Her fingers tingled from the warmth of his skin as he spoke, his voice decidedly light. “Good.”

She continued, refolding her arms, “I know you’ve been avoiding me the last few days, and I know you assigned Paul to me the next few weeks. That’s why I was waiting outside your office.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you, Hermione. And I told that fat idiot _days_ , not weeks.”

Hermione felt a rush of relief hit her, a feeling she didn’t know she’d been hoping to have, or feel so grateful for.

“I told him just this morning that I’d be taking over again. I needed to take care of some work.” Draco huffed, shifting his weight.

“Well good, because I was about a day away from stupefying that man,” she laughed out.

Draco’s lips twitched upwards. “I’m sure I would have done much worse, much sooner.”

“So, you’ve been busy with work? I feel stupid assuming you’d avoid me because of a fight. You’d probably love a fight.”

“I live for them,” he drawled. “And yes, I found out some interesting info on the case, but I’d rather talk away from the Ministry about it.”

“Why?” she asked.

Draco shook his head, gesturing for the door. They were silent as they headed for the Ministry’s endless rows of floos, but the hand at her back had her feeling more normal than she had in days.

She stepped in beside him as he called out an address she hadn’t been to before.

His home.


	11. Chapter 11

Draco’s home was a lot smaller than Hermione had expected. She hadn’t expected a flat of his own, rather another manor or large house. The floors were hard wood, the walls matching appropriately with a light grey with white molding. No pictures hung on the walls. The furniture was modern and very…clean. There was an expansive bookshelf that lined the far wall, facing a set of matching black couches with white pillows. His fire place opened up into his living room, on a tiny stone clearing about three feet wide that met seamlessly with the wood.

She peered around the corner and could see a hallway that was lined with three doors all closed. She wondered what they could be and wondered if there was anything else she could spy.

Draco drew her attention away with a wave of his hand.

“Just before I arrived at your home last weekend, I had a meeting with two former house mates of mine.” He was watching her curiously as she whirled around, caught in her attempt at snooping. He only raised a brow and asked, “Would you like anything to eat or…?”

She smiled and said, “No, no, that’s alright. I can always eat when I get home.”

“You had lunch?”

“Well, no. I was outside your office most of the afternoon—”

Draco frowned and walked past her around another corner she could not see around from the floo. She followed him, looking eagerly around every corner. As they rounded the corner they came upon his kitchen, which he was busy rifling through with his wand out. She realized that she’d always thought he’d have hired chefs or house elves. Most likely house elves.

“Why are you giving me that strange look?” he asked suddenly, not looking at her.

She hadn’t been aware of it. “I always suspected you’d have house elves to do your dirty work.”

He scoffed. “I don’t live with my mother anymore, so of course not.”

“Why of course?” she asked, moving to sit at his table.

He looked at her and momentarily paused in his cupboard rummaging. “Just never occurred to me I suppose, when I got my own place.”

“I see…I also never expected to see Draco Malfoy cook anything.”

His smirk was wide then. “I prefer to do more menial tasks with magic, as opposed to your muggle way of doing things.” He added water and rice to a pot, a set of knives floating idly by awaiting instruction.

“I figured as much,” she smiled as he started waving his wand and set to work a pot and wooden spoon to stir whatever it was that he was making. Hermione expected him to sit down across from her but he decided to lean against the granite countertop. He peered at her as if he was observing some great detail she was unaware of.

Becoming suddenly insecure under his intense gaze, Hermione looked away and said, “So, who did you meet with?”

“Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, you remember them from school?”

Her eyes snapped to his and she almost blurted about her run in with Zabini, but she held it in and nodded, allowing him to finish.

“I discovered some information that could be related to the case. Blaise isn’t who I thought he was.” The look on his face was one of disappointment.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought he was well past blood superiority, but he’s not. He was also,” Here, Draco paused and met her eyes, “asking after you. Theo told me that it wasn’t the first time either.”

Hermione grew quiet and looked at her hands, clasped in front of her on his table top. She frowned and shook her head. He cocked his head at her and she said, “I had a little run in with Zabini a few days ago. He told me that he was sorry about my _dilemma_. And he didn’t apologize either, which doesn’t matter but really, you’ve seen how the Aurors on the case treat me. It’s a shower of apologies every time they see me if they’re involved in the case.” Draco nodded. “And then he just stared at me for the longest time.”

Draco pulled a chair out to slump in, seeming tired all of a sudden. His hair was in his eyes and he had that strange look on his face that she’d seen many times. _So handsome_. She frowned at herself for thinking such a ridiculous thing during such a serious conversation.

Luckily, he hadn’t seemed to notice her trailing thoughts. “Theo told me to watch our backs. That Blaise is doing something within the Ministry. He didn’t tell me what though and like that helps anything.” A scoff. “Theo also said that Blaise had been gone from work the day of the first murder.” He paused and studied her face.

“I saw him write Rachelle’s name down on a piece of paper, along with a few others.”

She was shocked to say the least. She spread her palms flat on his table, leaning forward. “Do you have the paper? How did you see it? Where was it?”

“Calm down Hermione, Merlin.” She leaned back and fought not to roll her eyes in her frustration. “I snuck into his office and was trying to investigate for any evidence against him. I cast a Disillusionment charm before he came back in and I saw him write it down. And he was smiling, the smug prick.”

“We have to tell Harry. I already didn’t trust him from the way he was acting when I ran into him. And you just have too much against him not to be ignored.”

“I already told him,” he sighed.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, half smiling. “That’s what you’ve been up to then? Investigating Zabini?”

He nodded.

She sobered up and realized something of his past that she’d forgotten. “You’re friends, you and Zabini, aren’t you? I’m so sorry Draco. I should have—”

“Should have what? There was nothing you _should_ have done. It is what it is—he isn’t who I thought he was. He made that very clear.”

“What did he do?”

He sneered in mild anger and stood to tend to the food he was making. “He called you a mudblood.” Somewhat disgusted, Hermione went silent which Draco took as a sign to keep going. “There’s something you need to understand about Blaise. He was never one to outright brag about his blood superiority, even during the war. He came off as neutral. He never just called muggle born’s ‘mudblood’ for instance. So that he would directly say that, insult you like that…that’s all I need to know about him, about where his loyalties lie.”

Draco had gotten progressively angrier during his speech and Hermione felt compelled to say something to calm him down, but she wasn’t sure if there was anything she _could_ say, so she remained in her thoughts. Moments went by slowly and he wasn’t saying anything.

Breaking the silence when she was sure he’d calmed back down, she said, “He was your friend at one point in time, and for that reason…I’m sorry for whatever happens.” She’d lost too many friends to not know what it was like, at least a bit, for Draco. He was being forced to consider betrayal by someone who’d been close to him, and that was a big deal, even if he wasn’t going to admit it.

Draco looked at her, his gaze soft, before turning back to the food.

\--

Soon enough the food was ready, and he was floating the plates to the table. Which was a strange thought to her. She never would have imagined sitting at a table eating food that Draco Malfoy had prepared for her. She didn’t hide her smile from him as he sat.

“Oh, it’s chicken and rice,” she exclaimed.

He narrowed grey eyes at her. “What? Is it not good?”

“Of course it is, just didn’t expect…you know, never mind.” Giving up, she started to eat.

“That’s what I thought you said.”

After a while she asked, “What did Harry say?”

“About what, Blaise?”

“What else?” she asked, shooting him a scathing expression.

Ignoring it, he replied, “He didn’t really say anything, I just left him with it and he hasn’t come to me with anything new. Though I know he’s been watching him.”

“That’s strange he hasn’t come to you with anything else. Or me,” she said, scowling into her food.

“You forget that legally we aren’t a part of this case. Not on the investigative side of it. He warned me you’d obsess over it, not that you already haven’t. Technically he can’t say anything to either of us.”

“How do you _know_ though? It takes a lot to get through to Harry, to make him consider something that wasn’t his own idea.” She fought.

He peered at her again. “When it comes to you, people tend to take things much more seriously. Trust me, he’s looking out for you. Now, just worry about eating your food before you give yourself an aneurism.” He chuckled into his bowl.

“I’m ignoring that last comment.”

More chuckling. Hermione found his laugh was contagious and she began laughing with him. It was so ridiculous to start laughing for no reason, and yet here they were, laughing at hardly anything together. He had a nice laugh.

It suited him.

\--

“I’m going to keep watching Blaise. The searching I did hasn’t been enough to find out what he’s keeping in his desk. There wasn’t enough time.”

Hermione dug her hands deep in her hair and smoothed it all back as she thought hard about what the following weeks would entail. She released her brown curls finally and looked to see that Draco was watching her intently.

They’d been at his flat, sitting on his couch for nearly an hour discussing what could be done about Blaise. Draco had been tailing him for four days, lying low, but wasn’t anywhere nearer where he’d originally caught site of the list Blaise had. It hadn’t been enough time. No worthy result came from just four days of work, and they both knew that.

Hermione figured it’d be months before this case was solved.

Draco was speaking again, “I’m going to need to know if he approaches you again. It’s too big of a risk to leave it to chance.”

She said, matter-of-factly, “We’ll need a way of communicating. In school, for Dumbledore’s army I created coins that would alert us when there was a meeting. I could recreate it, but perhaps in something more conventional.”

He smirked at her, that indiscernible emotion in his eyes. “That’s a good idea. But what would we use? Coins are too loose, and easily lost.”

“True. How about our wands?”

He raised a brow. “A heated wand would be difficult to handle in public.”

“It wouldn’t be hot enough to burn, just enough for you to notice if you were holding it or had it in your pocket.” She moved herself so that she was crossing her legs on his couch, he watched her while she did it, and when their eyes met he looked away.

“You cast the spell then,” he rushed out, handing her his wand.

Hermione hid her smile and, saying nothing of his obvious appraisal, took both wands in her hands, closed her eyes and thought the particular spell it would take to enchant them. She gave his back, and waved her own. He waited, and the way his eyes went wide told her it worked.

“Now, how does this work so I can contact you?”

“Just think of me, and you’ll know where I am, that little tickle of thought you need when you apparate. I made it the basest version of the spell, so it’s simpler when in need of it considering the circumstance it’ll be used for.” If she suddenly found herself in a fight with Zabini, she didn’t have the time to waste to cast a complicated spell to call Draco.

“Good idea.” He merely nodded and repocketed his wand.

Hermione, feeling comfortable in his presence, and incredibly tired from the events of the day, rested her head on the back of the couch and let her eyes slip closed. She didn’t think much of what Draco would think of it.

“Now what,” she muttered on a yawn.

\--

Draco, in a completely different state of thought, smiled despite himself. He caught himself after a moment though and suddenly looked away, down at his hands. Then he looked at her again, forcing himself this time.

His fingers twitched with the urge to touch her, to touch her skin, to feel the fine curls of her brown hair, to feel her fingers curl around his own. The urge was radical and misplaced, and it was hard to acknowledge where it stemmed from.

So he set his jaw and stopped himself, settling for looking at her, for watching her as she dozed, breathing evenly and looking for the entire world completely and utterly at peace.

And Hermione was unaware of it all as she slipped into her dreams.

\--

Hermione dreamt of wide fields and black skies. She was in her pajamas and her hair was loose. And though there was a rapid wind all around her, she couldn’t feel it.

In the distance, there was a crackle of thunder and then a flash in the sky as it began to pour. She wasn’t wet though. The rain hit her, but she remained dry.

Another loud clap in the dark sky, and she felt strong arms grip her waist. She turned and her eyes met a familiar grey stare.  She didn’t feel alarmed at his touch, and instead leaned into it, letting her eyes fall closed. It was the first time she felt comfortable enough to close her eyes in a long while. And she relished the feeling. He was so warm.

When Hermione woke, it was to plush pillows and soft dark sheets, a warm smell surrounding her. After a moment of sleepy confusion, she sat up in a bed she didn’t remember climbing into. The sheets were a deep shade of ashy green that were almost black, silky against her hands. The pillows were the softest she’d ever felt. She let herself sink into them once more, just to savor the feeling.

Draco must have carried her to bed from his couch since she had so thoughtlessly fallen asleep next to him. Though she couldn’t imagine his state of mind when he’d actually decided to carry her. Perhaps he had merely levitated her in here. Either way it was an embarrassing thought, and she buried her face into his pillow even further.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice if she took one with her?

Sighing, she sat up finally and ran a hand through her tangle of curls, noticing happily that she had slept in her work clothes. She hoped somewhere in the back of her mind that the minor amount of makeup she had worn wasn’t smeared to oblivion on his bed from sleep. A quick survey told her no, it thankfully hadn’t. She assumed she was in the guest room.

Hermione groggily stood and shuffled out of the bedroom. She was in the hallway she’d spotted with the line of doorways earlier. The living room was dark, and she could see no source of light from the kitchen.

Just what time was it?

Beginning to worry slightly, Hermione made quiet steps to the other two doors in the hallway, listening to both before deciding no one was in them. _Why isn’t there a clock around here?_ she thought, annoyed. Quietly, she went to investigate the kitchen, which was spotless and empty of any telltale blonds, and walked back to see if he was maybe sleeping on the couch. He wasn’t anywhere.

Glaring at nothing in particular, she went back to listen at the doors and listened exceptionally hard for any breathing noises. None.

_Draco Malfoy, where did you go?_

Giving up, she decided to go back and wait for him in the room she’d awoken in—secretly glad she’d be able to sink into the pillows and blankets again. Smiling, she spread her arms and legs out shamelessly underneath the covers and looked around the room. The bed was the centerpiece of the room across from the door, with a double door closet across from the foot of the bed. A wardrobe to the left, and an end table to the right of the bed. No pictures on the walls save for a moving portrait of Draco and Narcissa in a city—not London—looking happy for once. A solitary Slytherin insignia adorned the front of the wardrobe. The bed was king sized…

_This_ is _Draco’s room._

Now that she was immersed beneath the covers again, she realized for the first time there was a distinctly male scent attached to them. That was the comforting warm smell she’d first noticed.

Her eyes went wide as thoughts swirled through her head at the implications of her sleeping in his bed. It both excited her and made her anxious. He had allowed her to sleep in _his_ bed, when she could have been perfectly happy to be left on the couch.

He cared about her, she knew. The only other reason being he was suddenly too accommodating to guests, which was entirely out of the realm of possibilities.

The revelation made her entertain thoughts that she hadn’t thought of before. Biting her lip, Hermione turned on her side and gathered the blankets about her shoulders, fighting for sleep to claim her before she allowed her thoughts to go any farther.

\--

Hermione awoke for the second time that early morning, but to a much different sensation. The smell of food hit her and the lingering trail of sleeps’ fingers left her as she slipped from the silk sheets and tried to smooth her mess of curls before she left the sanctuary of Draco’s room.

Hermione didn’t remember anything of the night, or of her dream, as she walked to the source of the delicious smell of morning breakfast. She wasn’t quite so surprised to see the blond head of Draco bobbing about his kitchen, preparing two plates of food. She hummed at the sight and seated herself at his little table and smiled.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that this is becoming a thing,” she said, amused.

Draco looked at her, blond stubble she hadn’t yet seen gracing his lower jaw, and smirked casually as she finished up the plates and set them on the table.

“Well,” he remarked, “It sort of is. Wanting to eat me out of house and home?” Hermione smiled before she dug in.

“Too redundant to include both anyways, so might as well knock one out for you.”

Draco huffed a laugh and started eating himself.

“How did you sleep?” he asked hesitantly.

Hermione felt her face redden. “You didn’t have to let me sleep, especially not in your bed.” A blank look. “…And I slept rather amazing actually. I think I might just steal your pillows.”

“I never pegged you for a kleptomaniac. I’ll make a reminder to put a ward on my things.” He smiled towards his food. “As for lending you my bed, I figured you wouldn’t much enjoy my awful couch all night.”

Hermione knew that he knew his couch was bloody comfortable too, but she let it pass. “Thank you. I haven’t slept that well in a long time.”

Draco held her gaze as he said, “Anytime.”

Their conversation inevitably turned to Blaise and Theo. Hermione and Draco both finished their food in the process, and Hermione offered to clean them this time, in return for him letting her use his bed.

“When do you think you’ll have another chance in his office?” she asked him.

“I don’t know. He’s always there when I’m not in my office, so it’s difficult to find an opening. It might be weeks before I have another chance.”

Hermione knew he wouldn’t like her next idea. “How about you distract him with some minor detail about the case and I go in? Besides, I can hold a Disillusionment charm much longer than you. I’d be able to find out what we both need to.”

Draco’s grey eyes pierced hers as he thought over the idea. He clasped his hands together on the table before him and finally said, “Too dangerous. If I can’t distract him long enough, or if your charm wears off then you’re stuck in there. It’ll be suspicious no matter what.”

“But it’s necessary.”

He sighed and said, “If you’re discovered, we’ll lose the element of subtlety and surprise all within a moment. It’s not worth it.”

“Polyjuice potion.”

His brow furrowed and he asked, “Who though?”

“Theo?”

His eyes widened slightly and he seemed to want to laugh but he said, somewhat incredulously, “Theo lost his good graces when we went to lunch with him. He sided with me when I...stuck up for you.” He faltered a bit, but it was out and didn’t much matter now. He kept talking, “Besides, there’s something strange there. I don’t quite trust Theo either. Not completely.”

Hermione fought the urge to plead with him. “It could work though. You could have another lunch out with Theo, as I go and meet with Blaise _as_ Theo. Then afterwards I could simply obliviate him, and he wouldn’t remember a thing.” She grinned, knowing she had him on a good idea.

Draco would have been stupid to ignore the almost guaranteed success of the plan, but he still worried. He’d always worry—nothing was ever certain with these things. And Hermione’s constant certainty often threw him.

Finally, he reluctantly agreed. “It does sound good. But what if Theo doesn’t agree to another meeting? We also have to gather some of his DNA, and I have absolutely no clue of how to go about that. The man is pristine.”

“I see him all the time in files, I know when he takes his lunch. I can search to see if there’s anything like a loose hair on his desk, lunch in the bin,” she supplied, cheerful.

He shook his head at her. “Hermione. Do you always have to think everything through to its limit?”

She smiled happily and said, proud, “Of course. I’m Hermione Granger.”


	12. Chapter 12

Astoria Greengrass was a beautiful woman, physically. No one could deny that. But anyone who knew her personally would readily disagree, if they had any sort of moral system, saying that her personality far outweighed the temptation of her looks. Of course, knowing the people she did, it was easy to find good company. People she held credence with. This often made her goals treacherous ordeals. When she wanted something bad enough, she got it.

And she wanted Draco Malfoy. Very badly.

As she found herself before the large grounds of Malfoy Manor, she was fully prepared to gain what she wanted.

Narcissa would have no choice but to bend to her charm.

\--

Narcissa Malfoy was not expecting company today. So when she was alerted by a house elf of a visitor at her door, she thought it was Draco dropping by for a surprise visit. When she learned that it was none other than Astoria Greengrass, the warning of her son came to mind, and she hummed, suspicious.

Narcissa knew her son was completely set in his decisions once he made them, oftentimes too stubborn, but she respected him for it all the same. It was a Malfoy trait through and through. Though she’d fully expected the relationship to have lasted until talk of marriage, she wasn’t daft. She recognized Astoria for the kind of young woman she was.

She wanted no such temptation to come to her son again, and so her first thought was to turn the girl away as he had instructed. Yet at the same moment, she thought back to the possibility of her being involved with the possible follower of Voldemort.

If she were honest, she doubted it. Astoria was young and brash and rueful, not plotting and vengeful. But she loved her son and wanted to help him. And despite his warnings, Narcissa’s curiosity overshadowed the possible danger.

The same house elf that had first alerted her of Astoria’s presence now brought the younger witch into the common room she’d been lounging in. Astoria looked eager and nervous, which betrayed the regal maturity the young woman so loved to exert. Narcissa gestured a delicate hand to the seat beside her on the plush settee and ordered a tray of tea from the house elf, who bowed and apparated away dutifully with a small pop.

Narcissa started the conversation by asking cheerily, “Ah, I’m glad you’ve come! I haven’t heard from you and Draco for a while.”

A look of sudden anger passed over Astoria, but she schooled her features like the Slytherin she was and said distantly, “Oh. That.”

The tea arrived a moment later and Astoria quickly sipped to punctuate the silence. Narcissa cupped hers gently in both hands as she let it cool.

“Oh? How are things?” she queried, knowing full well of how they were going.

“Draco is…somewhat removed these days I’m afraid.” A breath of hesitation and then, meeting Narcissa’s eyes intently, “He removed me from his flat!”

The elder witch removed all expression save for mock surprise and said with a gasp, “But _why_?”

The brunette’s long hair spilled over her shoulders as she bowed her head, tears in her voice, “We aren’t t-together…any longer.”

Narcissa dutifully frowned and placed a gentle caring hand on her back. Moments passed before she calmed herself enough to speak again. “I’d have him back, Narcissa. Your son, he was everything to me.”

Narcissa knew it for the lie it was, knew the damage she’d caused with her reckless spending on their trips to Paris, Moscow, New York. Often she’d borrow money, or even ask to pay her back later. It was quite a disgusting feature for a young woman to have, but she knew it wouldn’t ever change. She’d had similar conversations with the girl before.

She searched for something logical to say without damaging his name too much, “My son has needs that he’s not ever found quite satisfied. It’s difficult for him to keep focus on one thing for too long before he is consumed with the need to find what that certain satisfaction is.”

Astoria looked hateful at her words. “But Draco had _me_. I was enough to satisfy him.”

The smallest of frowns graced her lips. “It’s eaten at him his whole life. Even when he was a young boy, he always seemed to be searching for something to immerse himself in. It’s plausible that your kind of satisfaction was just not the kind of satisfaction he needed.”

Silence.

“Astoria?”

The dark haired woman shrugged off Narcissa’s hand as she stood briskly and glared angry eyes at the floor. “I _am_ what he needs, whether he knows it or not.”

Now Narcissa stood too, her annoyance evident. “Perhaps it is only _you_ who needs him.”

Wild eyes met hers. Narcissa felt sorry for her. She just couldn’t let go.

“We need each other. And he _will_ recognize that fact.”

With that, Astoria walked with heated steps to the wide front doors of the Manor, trying unsuccessfully to slam the door after her—it was charmed to close gently no matter the force put upon it. Narcissa heard an indignant yelp and then there was silence as she imagined Astoria apparating once outside.

Narcissa almost laughed at how the child had thought her so easily charmed. Ignorant.

Sighing, she sat back down and began to sip at her now cold tea.

\--

A full week had passed since Hermione stayed the night. Little did she know that that night he’d been outside warding his home against possible intruders. The risk was too great to ignore. And in an unexpected moment of thoughtfulness he’d eased her into his arms and, only allowing himself a moment to enjoy the weight of her against him, carried her to his room and promptly tucked her in.

His bed had smelled like her for days.

At first, he’d been nervous of waking up and smelling like her, and he practically showered in his own cologne the first morning. But he’d grown to like it, expect it. It had become something close to comforting.

He’d spent an embarrassing amount of time carefully slipping in and out of his own bed in an attempt to preserve the scene. He was becoming pathetic.

The made him glare at nothing in particular as he watched from afar Hermione walk down the hallway in front of Theo’s desk in Files. Theo bobbed his head at the familiar face and he smirked at whatever it was that Hermione was saying to him. He wondered absently if Theo noticed how good she smelled.

_She is quite beautiful._

Out of nowhere Theo’s words played in his head. He was surprised and then he narrowed his eyes at it, closing them to the onslaught of the memory of their meeting, trying to shove everything else out of his mind besides the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to be distracted now.

They had waited a week to avoid all suspicion before they enacted their plan, well _her_ plan. She would lure Theo away with words of Draco needing to speak with him about some such matter. Then, she would search for any useable DNA for the Polyjuice potion. Draco would speak with him about matters at hand, possibly any files on Zabini that he had. It would be an earnest query and Theo would readily believe him.

At least that’s what they hoped.

Draco could see from his spot behind some cabinets that Hermione was speaking avidly about something. She swept her hair behind an ear, something she almost never did. Theo seemed enraptured, and when she leaned on her right a bit, as she had a tendency of doing, he rose and nodded to her, before walking past her in the direction of Draco’s office.

Quickly, the blond entered his office and bolted for his chair before the short walk placed Theo at his door. Draco greeted him and closed the door with a flick of his wand, locking it.

\--

As soon as Draco’s door shut, she went to work. Hermione hurried as she stepped behind Theo’s desk and began to scour the surface for any signs of loose hair. Unfortunately, there were none, the man ran a clean work area. Determined, she opened each and every drawer that was underneath that deceivingly small counter top. Time seemed to drag on endlessly over the space of time it took for her to thoroughly search every drawer.

Nothing. Huffing out an impatient breath, she whispered _point me_ to her wand and waited as she felt a tug in the right direction. She sneakily edged around the corner of a row of filing cabinets and found herself within the depths of endless rows of cabinets and shelves packed to bursting.

Two rights and a short left later, she was in front of a door. She raised a brow and quietly opened the door without making any noise and entered. It was a small break room, she assumed where Theo ate his lunch every day. It occurred to her that he must get lonely eating by himself all the time, but she was too distracted by the duffel bag in the corner of the room on the floor to really think much of his woes. It was his bag.

She felt no pull in any other direction, so she pocketed her wand and began to rifle through his things. For anything.

Hermione smiled widely when she found a comb with a few of his hairs on it, they were short, but it was definitely Theo’s hair. She magically bagged them and stuffed it in her pocket for later.

But would it be enough?

As she hastily fled the Files department, she could only hope.

\--

They wiry man leaned against Draco’s office door as he questioned silently why he’d been summoned there. Draco thought for something to say, pushing it to its absolute limit of time before he answered.

“I was just curious if you have any files on Zabini.”

Theo quirked a brow and eyed the blond carefully before he replied, “I have files on everyone, Draco.”

“Yes, and even Zabini?”

“Indeed.”

“I was wondering if there’s any way I could take a look at them?”

“You still following him?” Theo asked.

“I simply want a little backup information,” he said, glaring at the man.

“Of course you do. But what lengths are you willing to go through to get it?” Theo threw back at him.

Draco wasn’t sure if that was a rhetorical question or not, so he simply held his tongue as he continued to stall for time. Hopefully Hermione was finding what they needed.

“You seem odd today.”

Draco’s eyes snapped to Theo’s. “What makes you say that?”

His dark eyes bore into him, all intensity. Long minutes passed as they stared each other down.

Finally, “I’ll give you the files tomorrow. Auror files are always more difficult than the rest to…acquire.”

Draco didn’t like the way he said that, and made him remember that Theo was an incredibly insightful person.

Theo turned to leave the door at exactly the same time there was a rapping on the outside. He said without turning, “I hope Granger found what she needed, Draco.”

All Draco could do was smirk at his fellow Slytherin’s statement. The man was clever, something he never ceased to prove when in the presence of others. Though he wasn’t worried about their plan being found out. Something told him that Theo wouldn’t say anything of it, not even to Zabini. Despite being reluctant to trust him, he just couldn’t seem _not_ to.

That was a dangerous thing.

\--

Hermione gallantly slapped down a small baggy of minuscule hair fibers of one expected Theodore Nott before Draco on his desk. A proud smile was wide on her face as she beamed at him from where she stood. He couldn’t fight a smile of his own.

“All of ten minutes. I thought I was going to run into either of them any minute, my heart was pounding so terribly!” Anxiety made her breathless, but she was happy.

Draco examined the bag of the few hairs she’d found, light brown and medium length. “You’re sure they’re his?” he asked skeptically.

She snatched it from him and sat down in the opposing chair. “Positive. His hair is the same tone and it was in his duffel.”

“True, it is the same color. But how can you be sure it was his bag?”

“Because,” she said, confidently, “It was in the break room, and he’s the only one working Files.”

Draco eyed the bag but didn’t argue with her. He was giving her that look again, the one that sent chills up her arms and raised the hairs on her neck. This time, she chose not to break the eye contact, and a pleasant warmth spread through her when he held it.

“How long before the potion is ready?”

She shifted her weight and answered a thoughtful, “I have bicorn horn…and knotgrass. I just need fluxweed and boomslang skin, that’s easily collected in time. Another two weeks before the full moon, and then a full month to brew for the potion to be effective.”

He nodded and, casting his eyes down he frowned. “A month and a half then.”

Seeing his disappointment, she said, “It’ll be slow going, but it will allow time to do further research, and there might be new developments in the case itself.”

His brows pulled together and he seemed to be grimacing at a thought, but he spoke before she could question it. “Theo’s getting me Zabini’s file tomorrow.”

The subject having changed, Hermione was pleasantly surprised. “How’d you manage that?”

Draco delayed only a moment before saying somewhat carefully, “He was accepting of what I had to say to him.”

Lowering her voice, she asked, “You trust him?”

“Just barely,” he muttered.

Hermione watched as the blond stood and tiredly ran a hand through his already tousled hair. He seemed ragged and emotionally drained.

He handed her back the bag and nodded as he said, “You work on your potion, then. I’ll focus on Zabini until you’re finished with it. I don’t want to miss it if he does anything out of the ordinary.”

“So I’m stuck with Paul for the next month and a half?”

Draco met her eyes before flicking his gaze down to where she felt her jaw flex. His stare lingered before he said, “No. That dud isn’t a suitable guard.” There seemed he had more to say but remained quiet.

She smiled at that and almost laughed, but he arched a brow at her as if to say _don’t even question it_. His grey eyes gazed intently into hers as she continued to smile up at him. She felt her face heat under the scrutiny.

A shadow of a thought surged within her as the air shifted around them. Into something deeper. Something darker, unknown.

They were standing very close she suddenly realized, and they were alone in his office together. It seemed suffocating but at the same time like a door had just opened to left a wind whirl inside That shadow of a thought gripped her and she couldn’t for the life of her rid her mind of it.

It was a dangerous urge, one she knew she had no business having.

And as he blinked at her, she was afraid he would see her every thought. So she only nodded, turned and walked out of his office with a quiet farewell. She wasn’t entirely sure what the look on his face was, or what he thought of her abrupt departure, but she couldn’t risk him sensing her moment of absurdity.

Anxiety set her heart thudding as she thought of how easy it would have to just lean forward and kiss him.

That wasn’t a good thing.

Right?

\--

Draco Malfoy had seen many amusing things in his life. But never had he seen Hermione Granger blush so vividly in his presence. Something about seeing her so excited so _proud_ , filled with a rush he was certain she felt flying from one adventure to the next in school gave her—was delightful. His head swam when she finally turned away, but with her leaving his smile had faltered.

It set alight within him something he had not known was quite there.

Perhaps he had been denying it.

But he couldn’t ignore that he had only one thought at that moment, standing so close to her. Close enough to feel her breath on his chin. Close enough to see the light freckling on her nose and cheeks. Close enough to see her brown eyes flicker with something he knew well but hadn’t ever seen on her before.

Uncertainty.

He wanted to find out why.

Somewhere within him, he already had some idea…but that was his own secret to keep. He couldn’t project that onto her. But…

But it was an undeniable fact that he had barely restrained himself from lowering his head and kissing her. She had seemed so happy looking at him, like he’d been a part of her Golden Trio, a look he hadn’t ever thought he’d wanted directed at him. But in that moment, it had lit him up inside and he felt, in that moment, like it would have been alright. Alright to kiss her. To touch her.

Draco huffed at himself, tiredly settling into his chair. He hoped he’d be able to rest and sort out at least some of the thoughts radically throwing themselves about in his head.

He could only hope.


	13. Chapter 13

He dreamed of her that night. It was a simple dream. Showed him things he’d pushed to the back of his thoughts during the day.

In flashes of bare skin, whispered names, and barely there touches, he awoke to a pounding heart and an annoyance he had no wish to relieve at that moment. He could only sit in his bed and try to forget what suddenly dominated the forefront of his mind.

If he was to see her this morning before work, he didn’t know if he could trust himself.

Draco covered his face with his hands and let the starry blackness blur his vision.

\--

Hermione was still dressing when she heard the telling roar in her living room. Wide brown eyes froze on her reflection in the mirror as she finished her mascara. She was standing in her underwear and, thankfully, the bathroom door was still shut. A dark red sweater and a simple skirt were folded neatly and she dressed in them quickly. He could just wait. After a moment, she finished up, smoothed her hair and walked out with as much poise as she could muster.

“Hey,” she breathed, coming around the corner.

She could see the gears turning as Draco took in her appearance, smirking at her choice in colors. This was the first time he’d arrived reasonably early, and she wondered at it. He said nothing and only kept staring. Beginning to feel uneasy with the prolonged gaze, she averted her eyes and ran her hands over her skirt as she walked towards her bedroom and called back to him, “I just need my things and I’ll be ready to go.”

As Hermione turned the corner she heard him reply with something but didn’t hear what he actually said. Grabbing her cloak, purse, and wand, she turned around and met a very solid surface barring her way.

Realizing she’d bumped into him, she staggered back a step, looking up to meet his eyes. They were calculating and his eyebrows were drawn together. He seemed to be debating something.

Hermione said, ruffled, “You’re quite early.”

“Got bored.”

Silence pervaded and their eyes remained locked. The memory of the day before entered her mind and her eyes flicked to his lips and back. She very nearly frowned when she realized he’d seen it. But then she tilted her head and smirked devilishly as she stepped towards him once more, closing that distance.

He seemed unfazed, the only sign of him having noticed was the flash of mischief in his eyes. Amusement. Wondering what she was doing.

She was entertaining that idea.

“Draco,” she whispered. His grey eyes darkened in that look that she was becoming all too familiar with.

Suddenly, she found his hand reaching up to touch her cheek. Perhaps it was safe to say she had guessed correctly. The lightest of touches ghosted across her cheekbone, her jaw, and then down her neck, raising gooseflesh in their wake. His fingers traced delicately along her collarbone until they reached the edge of her sweater and trailed further still along the outside of her arm and all the way down the length of it. Finally, stopping just at her wrist, he pressed two fingers there, almost seeming to want to grab it, and they dropped back to his side.

A deep shiver coursed through her. Her attempt backfired.

He seemed to notice the effect he’d had and was wearing one of the proudest smirks she’d ever seen him wear.

_Did he just…_

But she couldn’t finish the thought before Draco was leaning forward, close enough she could feel his hot breath against her ear. “Careful what you encourage. You never know what you might be rewarded.” He lingered there a moment, and she didn’t move. Closing his eyes for the briefest of moments he breathed in quietly and tilted his face inwards.

Hermione only saw the dark glint in his grey eyes as he stood at his full height and moved to the side to let her pass.

Never breaking eye contact, she did.

_\--_

_Draco,_

_I know you are very busy with your work and all that, but I’m afraid something of import has occurred within the last twenty four hours. I know you told me to alert you of anything, well, this is it._

_Come as soon as possible, dear._

_Mother_

Draco read the note twice. Couldn’t his mother have used a decent piece of parchment? He burned the note with a tap of his wand and stood to gather his things. He’d been at work barely an hour before he’d received this.

He folded his cloak over his arm and grabbed his briefcase, swiped a hand through his hair and then left his office. As he locked it, he saw a familiar bushy haired brunette round a corner some hallways down. This morning in her room replayed in his mind and a tiny lop sided grin appeared.

If she was going to play that game, so would he. It was only too fun.

Not to mention something he rather enjoyed as of late.

The notion to go over and see her crossed his mind, maybe see if she was still as flustered as she was this morning. But there was no time for that, he had to stop by Potter’s and tell him he had to take care of some outside case-work. A catchy little term they’d come up with for whenever he needed to go debrief his mother of her contacts. The little allowance of time off was almost too easy, but he knew it’d be revoked as soon as the case was solved.

As he passed the coworkers he never talked to in the hallways he heard a sudden subtle symphony of whispers surround him. This was not new, even four years after the war people still found perverse enjoyment in gossiping about the Malfoy who almost killed Albus Dumbledore. Sometimes they even went as far as to say he _did_ kill him, whether they were misinformed or truly believed it he didn’t know. It didn’t bother him these days because he’d made peace with that point in his life. Four years had passed quick enough, another four would go in the blink of an eye. And besides, it wasn’t that bad, it happened so little that he hardly noticed it anymore.

But today was different.

He knew something was off the moment the words _Malfoy_ and _Granger_ were said in the same sentence and same reproaching tone. He whipped around and locked eyes with the assailant and he nearly walked up to the man and grabbed his collar. But the look in the man’s eyes was enough to satisfy Draco. He kept walking. Heard more whispers.

_Seems like they’re shagging doesn’t it? The way they arrive and leave everyday together._

_No, never! He’d never mix with_ her _. You know how he thinks._ He scoffed at that.

_You’re both stupid. It hasn’t anything to do with sex. It’s a case._

That caught his attention. Had someone spilled something? Had some inane Auror gotten drunk with a pal and told some coworker who didn’t care about the case they were working on? Draco fought hard not to stop the gossipers, instead resolved to ask Potter about it.

Perhaps Blaise had been talking.

Narrowing his eyes, Draco made his way to Potter’s office, walking in unannounced.

The curly head of the Boy Wonder was bent over paperwork, a look of concentration on his face. Draco took it as the perfect moment to interrupt him.

With two raps of his knuckles Potter looked up and quirked a brow at him. Draco said, “I have some case work to take care of. I’ll be back in under an hour.”

As he turned out the door, Potter called behind him, “Report back what you find Malfoy!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

\--

His mother regarded him cautiously as she let a name he wished to never hear again grace his ears. He narrowed his eyes and asked angrily why she had let Astoria within the manor. That he had explicitly told her to not let her anywhere near here.

Narcissa clasped her hands coolly and said, “I thought she might know something about the muggle born girl. You never know.”

Draco’s eyes snapped to hers and said, “Her name is Granger. Hermione Granger. And why would she have any information on the case Mother? Astoria is as flitty as they come. She’d never be involved in matters so dark as to be involved in a Voldemort _resurrection_.”

“Please Draco, it’s hardly a resurrection,” she scoffed.

“You know what I mean. Someone is resurrecting his old ways and they’re targeting someone who’s in my charge. I can’t have my time wasted with pointless tales of Astoria’s doings.”

Narcissa’s thin lips tilted slightly upwards in a knowing way and she stood to face him. He looked at her questioningly to which she only said, “Your job is causing a great amount of stress on you. Perhaps you should take time off from your… _charge_. Maybe even throw a masquerade ball, here, at the Manor.”

Draco nearly laughed at the suggestion. She certainly _had_ spoken with Astoria it seemed. “I see Astoria made herself known. What did she want anyway? More money?” He snorted.

“Yes actually, among other things. And do not avoid my proposal, sometimes it’s good to halt things and take time to breathe. The mug— Granger girl may come as well.”

Draco tilted his head back and blinked at the ceiling. It was just like his mother to avoid the matter at hand. Though he’d be a fool to deny the temptation of taking time off work. But having Hermione here at the manor, of all places…

He didn’t know what that would do to her. Being in the place she’d been tortured only four years before.

Time certainly did fly by fast.

But then the image of him and her dancing together, close, filled his mind and he couldn’t deny it appealed to him. Very much. It’d take a lot of talking.

But maybe it was worth it. He knew she’d enjoy something like that, at least he thought she would. Some time to relax and not focus on the case was what they both needed. Hermione much more than him.

“I’ll run the idea by her. But do _not_ talk to Astoria anymore. Don’t even think about it. Even if she’s hurling hexes and curses at the door.” A moment’s pause, “What ‘other things’?”

Narcissa looked dire and said carefully, “You. Though I’m sure you already knew that. I know she’s a fixated child, and I thought it fair to warn you. I don’t know what lengths she is capable of going.”

Draco rubbed his temple and almost groaned. It seemed she’d never give up.

He had a fucking _Ron_ on his hands. It was almost funny how you could draw parallels between the two of them. They’d be perfect for each other.

He slumped on the couch and cupped his face with both hands before he sighed and said tiredly, “Since when did life become so fucked up.”

Narcissa grimaced slightly at his language but took a seat beside him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He looked over at her and for a moment he was reminded of those rare moments when he’d been a child craving his mother’s attention. She said simply, “We’re Malfoy’s. It’s practically in our blood to have troubled lives.”

He had meant it as a rhetorical question, not ever really expecting an answer. He knew there was no answer. But his mother had a good point, it seemed to be the trend that their family have difficult lives. He was living up to the family name in that sense at least.

Perhaps once this was all over, he could figure out a way to break the cycle.

\--

Hermione had always been good at reading people. She could always tell when Harry was upset, and what was required to soothe his anger and bring his spirits up. She knew how to dodge around Ron’s emotional highs and lows and respond to them to restore calm. It was a little talent she had—even when she was young her mother would call her _her little insightful one_.

And today was no different. She could tell something was off with Draco. He had a certain air about him, a tension that wouldn’t dissipate. She’d known it back in school. The only thing that was missing was insults and hexes thrown at each other in the hall.

However as he chewed on his sandwich silently it was far from those days. Hermione ate her salad just as quietly as he did. Even if she knew something was wrong, she didn’t know exactly what. She didn’t want to set him off. But with each passing moment her curiosity amounted.

After another five minutes and a few exchanged glances she asked aloud, “What’s eating you?”

He looked at her quizzically and said slightly defensively, “Absolutely nothing. Why do you ask?”

She threw him a doubtful look. “You’re glaring at your sandwich. I hardly call that alright.”

He looked at his food and set it down on the wrapper. Wiping his hands on a napkin he replied, “It’s just how I look.”

She snorted and he frowned. “Please, you may be foul tempered, but you don’t go around glaring at everything.”

“Perhaps you haven’t seen my face enough,” he told her.

Hermione set down her fork and leaned back in her chair. “Oh? A month in near constant company and I think I’ve seen it plenty to tell when something’s wrong.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her but she didn’t yield. She knew he was probably damning her for being so observant but she wanted to know if something had developed regarding the case.

After another long moment of silent glaring, he finally spoke, “It’s nothing. Family issues is all.”

Her eyes softened. “Oh. I’m sorry, Draco. I didn’t mean to pry.” She didn’t even want to begin challenging that barrier.

His grey eyes found hers and she saw that imperceptible emotion flash before he sighed and it was gone.

“It’s really nothing. My mother has invited you to a party of sorts.” He looked at his sandwich again.

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Honestly, I go there for information on the case and she comes back with _I’m throwing a ball_. Hardly professional.” He shook his head.

“Wait, what, a _ball_? Why?”

He pursed his lips at her questions. “My Mother is extravagant. She throws parties at the worst possible times.”

“Yes, but why _me_? The muggle born little girl who has a killer after her? What about that screams party time?”

His mood visibly dampened as she spoke, but he kept talking in the same easy tone, “I have no idea honestly. Though I would be obligated to attend.”

“Why?”

“Merlin Hermione, keep your knickers on. I’d have to go because it’d be every old friend of the Malfoy family.” He paused. “Minus those imprisoned.”

Then it dawned on her. It’d be every suitable suspect in one building. There to observe, to talk to even. It was the perfect setting for spy work and they’d never know.

“I see you understand now,” he said on a smirk.

Hermione straightened her posture and said determinedly, “I’m going.”

Immediately the smirk was gone. “What?”

“I was invited wasn’t I?”

“Well, yes but—”

Hermione cut him off, “Your own mother invited me. You wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

“Bugger that! Every death eater you’ve ever heard of will be there. It won’t be safe.”

“Of course, I know that.” She pointed her fork at him. “You’ll be carrying out your task of protecting me.”

He narrowed his eyes in understanding.

“I’ll be your date to the ball,” she said triumphantly.

Draco made a choked sound, coughing on his food. “Have you even ever been to a ball?”

“The Yule Ball in fourth year.”

He rolled his eyes. “This is a _Malfoy Manor_ Ball.” He locked eyes with her, pleading for her to understand.

And in a moment it hit her. The breath left her as every memory of her torment replayed in her mind. Bellatrix laughing, the pain of the _Cruciatus_ snaking through her body as she screamed, and screamed. Lucius and Narcissa had stood back, watching silently as it had happened.

Draco to the side, shaking.

She breathed in and nodded to him. He looked troubled but it passed as she said confidently, “I’m not worried about it. That was a long time ago. And besides, your mother knows what’s coming to her or anyone else if they mess with me.”

He blinked at her in a moment of honest shock at her words, then he laughed. Relief flooded through her, she wasn’t sure if he’d accept the joke. “As does the rest of the Wizarding world.”

“And moreover I can’t miss the opportunity of possibly having the killer in attendance.”

He nodded in agreement. “They’ll assume you’re pureblood. You’ll have to act the part.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll have picked up on your behavior a bit more by then.” She smiled widely at him and he seemed unaware of his own small smile.

But it faded with her next question. “Though was that what was really bothering you?”

Draco hesitated only a second too long before he said, “Yeah. Told you it was nothing. How’re you going to get the ingredients for the Polyjuice?” He was obviously changing the subject, but she decided not to push it.

“I have the majority within my own potion stores at home, but I still need to collect and powder bicorn horn and fluxweed at the next full moon. And like I said a whole month’s time before it’s ready.”

“You can get it here at the Ministry.”

“I don’t want to raise suspicions. Brewing it myself is the safer route, however annoying having to wait may be. How will you get Theo to meet with you again?”

“I’ll make some excuse to talk about the case. I know he’s curious about it.”

Hermione didn’t know Theodore Nott well. He was a shadow in the Slytherin house at school and she hardly ever saw him at work. She wasn’t sure if he was a gossip, but maybe it would work out.

It had to.

Hermione was taken from her thoughts when she saw Draco stand, taking his trash with him. Lunch was over in a few minutes and he’d be heading back to his office.

Her stomach flipped nervously at the thought of attending a ball with him. However frivolous it seemed, it would be lovely to take time off from the case and just relax a little, albeit be able to be in the midst of her work at the same time. Though she expected she’d have to dance, which she wasn’t very good at. But it would mean dancing with Draco. It sent a warm flutter through her at the prospect.

As she stood to meet him she stole a moment to observe his face, his eyes, his hair, his straight nose, his small mouth with full lips—Just alright. Alright.

She fancied him.

That forlorn look that lingered when he thought no one was looking fascinated her. She had only ever seen a vague resemblance in one other before, and that was Harry, but never had he stared so…intensely at things. It was different with him. Draco lacked the carefree attitude that Harry had sustained all his life. Draco had never had that chance.

She wondered if he ever could.

Realizing he was staring at her she shook her thoughts away and quirked her lips at him. His eyes moved from her own to her nose to her lips and lingered there before meeting her eyes again.

Hermione watched, engrossed, as Draco raised one hand to her forehead and traced her temple to her jaw before he lowered it to her neck and swept her brown curls off her shoulder and out of her face. She felt heat flood her cheeks.

“It’s a masquerade by the way.”

And with that, he turned and left her office.

A nervousness she hadn’t felt in a long time washed over her. The feeling left her feeling lightheaded.

But she smiled all the same.

\--

The day felt like it was dragging on and on and on, yet at the same time Hermione felt like it wasn’t racing by fast enough. She’d try to be responsible and do her routine work for S.P.E.W. among other daily tasks she took care of, but every time she finally started to focus on the work her mind would traitorously drift back to thoughts of Draco.

To the recent flirting.

The feather light touches that were often too quick to register.

The look in his eyes she was careful to name, but knew. She wasn’t sure if he was aware of the looks he gave her, but she certainly was. She’d become hyper aware of every instance between them. Every interaction was carefully catalogued away and every memory replayed and analyzed.

She knew it wasn’t something most would consider a healthy habit but it had always been something that Hermione was prone to doing. Overanalyzing the situation until everything was figured out.

But there were still pieces missing. Pieces she had yet to discover.

Butterflies erupted in her stomach for the hundredth time that day as she thought back on his words spoken only hours ago.

_This is a Malfoy Manor Ball._

_They’ll assume you’re pureblood. You’ll have to act the part._

_It’s a masquerade by the way._

Hermione felt foolish for acting so giddy when there was absolutely no logical reason to be excited given the situation. There would be an untold amount of former and possibly still active, death eaters there and she needed to observe. Take mental notes.

Her bold statement that she’d be his date replayed in her mind, the look of amused surprise on his face. Thinking back on her momentary confidence she blushed. Not having thought of what he’d think of it, she had simply said it. Maybe he wouldn’t mind it, judging from how he’d reacted.

It would be an entirely different environment for the two of them. They’d likely be dancing. And they would have to mingle together, her on his arm, to complete the appearance of happy pureblooded couple. His trademark hair would give him away instantly, but they’d not know who she was, and would most definitely pelt her with revealing questions.

But the threat of having a room full of dancing death eaters find out her parentage wasn’t what made her nervous.

It was the plain fact that she would be spending the night as Draco’s date.

And she wasn’t entirely sure if her act would be all pretense.

\--

A pomp of annoyingly orange curls made their way into Draco’s line of sight. His previously good mood vanished as he met the cold glare of Ron Weasley as they passed without a word. Usually the calm insult would fly from the Weasel’s mouth, but nothing today.

A quick lock of heated gazes and they had passed each other, walking on as if nothing happened.

Draco was left to wonder just what had changed in those hard blue eyes.

But he decided then and there that he wouldn’t mention it to Hermione.

\--

Hermione was enveloped in her own thoughts when he arrived in her office, which was all well and good because he had no desire to talk for fear something would slip out about the ginger. Sometimes he couldn’t help _but_ to insult the insufferable fool.

Draco remained quiet, choosing instead to observe her silence as she smiled sheepishly at him and continued out her office to the floo they had grown accustomed to taking. It was odd seeing her completely silent.

He wasn’t sure if she wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter or if she had perhaps run into Weasley. The git had been heading the opposite direction from Draco.

Perhaps he’d paid her a visit.

Scowling, Draco entered the floo automatically and called out her address.

But that didn’t seem right either. He didn’t see that fire in her eyes that she always gained when upset. No, she just seemed thoughtful.

She eyed him curiously as they stepped into her living room, and he questioned it.

“You’re scowling.”

“As I often do,” he retorted, but she smirked when he very obviously kept from forming another scowl. “You’re quiet. Shouldn’t you be prattling on about how ripe for the picking all the death eaters will be at my mother’s batty idea of a ball?”

“No,” she said gently. “I was actually thinking about a dress.” Waving her hand flippantly she brushed it off. “I know that’s not the ideal topic of conversation. You’re right, I should be thinking of dark wizards, but honestly I’ve handled plenty before.”

Her words were accompanied with a small smile. She was right, he didn’t have much to contribute to a discussion about dresses, but he was curious suddenly what she would wear. He remembered the blue dress she’d worn back in fourth year. So many years ago. So much had changed.

She was no longer the bookish little girl that wore frumpy clothes. They weren’t kids anymore. Her untamable mess of curls had calmed somewhat. She was slender, but it didn’t stop him from watching her walk whenever she went ahead of him at work. That one dress she had with the buttons he was quite partial to. Without thinking, he began imagining her in different dresses, what she’d look like now.

He’d be a fool not to acknowledge her beauty.

This was somewhat disconcerting because he’d never before thought of her like… _this_. He’d always been intrigued with her, even in school, because she was one of the only ones who routinely scored higher than him. She was the only one who stood up to his insults and threw them back in even cleverer ways—Potter and Weasley didn’t count in her eyes, not with Hermione orchestrating the two bumbling duds all through school. And she never backed down. That confidence was always there, oftentimes throwing him off. But it’s what he’d come to respect in her. Only now years later could he allow himself to admit that.

Perhaps he’d always thought her beautiful, on some subconscious level.

Draco had wasted so much time.

But now, it was being forced into the open to the forefront of his mind, in a completely different sense, and he was not accustomed to it.

Ignoring her light attempt at a joke, he said a little more irritably than he intended, “That’s usually what women wear to dances, I’d expect you to be thinking of one.

She cocked a brow, unimpressed. “Well, aren’t you thinking of suitable dress robes?”

He’d forgotten that particular detail.

Faltering enough so that she could allow herself a chuckle he said, “I have plenty of clothes for this sort of thing.”

“Why’s that?”

“Astoria dragged me to countless events. Honestly, it’s rather routine.”

Her face fell indiscernibly but he couldn’t tell why. It lasted not even a second before she was talking again. “Oh. Well then it’ll go smoothly hopefully.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, trying to read her eyes, but she wasn’t having it and turned away. She walked further into her home. Not wanting to leave just yet, and not really understanding why, he followed her until she finally turned around. She crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly and he realized then he hadn’t anything to say. Something rather obvious crossed his mind and he blurted it out to break the silence.

Running a hand through his hair, he stated, “I’ll be expected to wear house colors, and we’ll be expected to match.”

“Green and silver. I should have figured.” But she was smiling at him playfully.

Waiting a moment for the finality of the moment to pass, he met her eyes. He nodded and turned, walking to the fireplace before he heard his name called very softly. He had one foot in the floo as he looked back over his shoulder.

“Goodnight, Draco.”

He smiled very slightly and right before he called out his home address, said, “Goodnight, Hermione.”


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione had never been very keen on shopping, even when she was a child tagging along with her mother on shopping trips. Perhaps that’s when her interest in shopping and playing dress up was snubbed, snuffed out of existence for all eternity. She had preferred to spend her time learning than deciding what lipstick looked best. She was pretty, in her own way. Her teeth had been a unique feature, but by irony alone Draco had ended up inevitably causing her fixation of them. She missed them a little sometimes, but there was nothing to do about it.

She’d gotten used to her hair around third year. Nowadays she hardly noticed it. The most she did was charm it to settle the curl slightly before going off to work. Her skin was free of blemishes, but was covered in a light pattern of freckles across her face and shoulders, she’d always been a little self aware of it, but no one really noticed them unless they were right next to her.

Draco had probably noticed.

She wasn’t overweight, she wasn’t very thin. Wasn’t too short, wasn’t too tall. She was perfectly and completely herself, and she was alright with that. Her brain is what set her apart. Her quick wit. She always had that thought when she was having a bad day. It always cheered her up.

But today was the farthest thing from a bad time as she perused the streets of a muggle city not far from her own. Ginny had accompanied her immediately when she had first spoken the word _shopping_. She had yelled into the phone excitedly and practically threw herself from the floo into Hermione’s living room, all smiles with purse at the ready resting against her stomach.

Ginny asked every question she could think of, and then some, as Hermione tried as best she could to calm her excited friend and explain the situation to her. She had barely spoken the name Malfoy before Ginny stopped dead and a wide, knowing grin plastered itself to her face, not moving for anything. Hermione’s brows furrowed and she said exasperatedly, “Ginny, no, not like that! Dra-Malfoy only invited me because of the case. That’s _all_!”

“You almost called him Draco!” she chirped, eyes shining.

They were stopped in front of a large glass window of a muggle coffee shop. People inside chatted away, oblivious to the two of them as they made their way past.

Ginny grabbed Hermione’s wrist and yanked her along, walking a ways and then, apparently finding what she was looking for, pulled her into a shop that she didn’t catch the name of.

Hermione however was only focused on getting Ginny to slow down. “Ginny!” she practically hissed.

The red head said conversationally, “I’m sure that _Draco_ only did it for the case.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I saw the way he looked at you at the party. I saw everything when he apparated you away. I saw it all!”

Hermione was silent. That night changed everything.

Ginny saw the look on her face. She was much gentler when she said, “Malfoy cares for you. I don’t know _why_ , but he does. The way he reacted to you that day…how he handled the situation, was special. I don’t think he quite expected it himself.”

Hermione laughed humorlessly. “I don’t think he realizes much of anything that’s going on.”

At hearing that, Ginny was all questions again so as Hermione let out a long sigh, she told her how he’d been flirting with her for the last few weeks. How lately it’d been changing slightly. How things were delving into something deeper and she didn’t know what it was. She didn’t think Draco knew either.

And the outcome scared her.

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed before taking in her surroundings for the first time. They were in a dress shop, practically empty. It was a _really_ nice shop. The few that _were_ inside shopping dressed like they had money.

The gowns Ginny was looking through were floor length and silk. Hermione wondered if she even had the money, or if she was just window shopping. She certainly didn’t have the money for a dress like this.

Ginny spoke while she shopped, handing dresses she found suitable to Hermione. “I think he wants to take you to a ball. And that’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“But the case? There will be every death eater we’ve ever known about, and then some!”

Ginny looked at her friend and shook her head. “You have to relax Hermione. Work can’t consume your life _all_ the time you know.”

She made an unladylike snort in the back of her throat in response and a woman a little ways off looked at her disapprovingly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Ginny fingered a silver, floor length gown that had a white-silver embroidery down the bust and skirt of the dress. It created a shimmery swirl effect and it would flow nicely along the shape of her body. Ginny seemed to sense her thoughts because she looked at it longingly a moment before handing it to Hermione as well. She found a beautiful, though rather busty red one and Hermione shook her head no.

“He said we have to match. Silver and green,” she said, thankful for that little detail as Ginny huffed and hung the gaudy red thing back up.

Ginny’s bright eyes rolled to the side as she scoffed at the blatant show of Slytherin pride. Hermione felt sorry for whoever was attending that had been sorted into Ravenclaw or even Hufflepuff. An expected Slytherin almost never made it into Gryffindor (except of course Sirius), though that was the only instance she had heard of. That and Harry had very nearly been sorted there, but he hadn’t been so it hardly mattered now.

Her thoughts were getting away from her and she refocused. Shopping had never entertained her. She dreaded having to try all of these on and thanked Merlin that she had her wand to make it go faster.

“How about this one?” Ginny had pulled up a step stool to reach a higher rack and pulled down a sweeping dark green dress with small beadlike pearls that sat where the fabric gathered. Hermione instantly fell in love, though she had never worn much green. The bust was a straight cut across with no shoulders and it still reached the floor. The pearls were small and weren’t gaudy at all. The way the silk shown reflected the light perfectly. The green was almost pearlescent, shifting in the light. She loved it.

If she was going to need a dress, this was the dress to need.

Ginny clicked her tongue and smiled proudly at her accomplishment. “You like it, I can tell. I like it too, it’ll go with your hair. Come on, let’s try them all on!”

She hefted every dress that wasn’t some variation of grey, silver, and green back on their respective racks. Hermione felt her eyes swim as she tried on the very Slytherinesque ball gowns and could only feel excited at the prospect of seeing Draco’s face when he saw the dress she’d be wearing.

She heard Ginny talking to her outside the room she was changing in. “Now all we need is to find you some gloves, heels, and a mask.” Hermione wasn’t excited at the prospect of heels.

“As long as I can still walk in them, sure,” she replied as they shuffled along.

The first barely fit over her arse, which Ginny howled at for the better part of a minute before handing her the next. Two low cut. Too short. Too long. Weird sleeves. How did a blue one sneak in here? Were those goose feathers?

Hermione was thoroughly done with clothes shopping. The only ones left to try on were the silver one with the shining embroidery and the pearlescent green. The silver one turned out to be beautiful, but when she saw the price tag, she paled and immediately went for the green one.

She said to herself mirthfully, “I bet if you saw me in this in school, you’d never have called me mudblood again.”

“Damn right he wouldn’t have! Tell him!” Ginny called loudly from outside the changing room. She heard a woman scoff in the room next to her and she could only flush with embarrassment.

But she was happy, she was having fun. And it had been so long since she’d just had _fun_.

\--

Somewhere on the streets of London, in a cozy district of suburban muggle homes, a figure dressed in black made their way languidly across the street to a section of road apart from the other houses. The person seemed to think for a moment as they stared at a particular house and then decided they were right.

Walking to the door, they pulled out their wand and started undoing wards.

After some ten minutes, the person entered the house, closing the door behind them.

Hermione Granger’s house was just as humble and…boringly _muggle_ as they had imagined it to be. With a sneer, the figure went about their business.

“Let’s see the look on Malfoy’s face after he sees his little mudblood girlfriend’s house when I’m through with it.”

\--

Ginny had shown a rather Slytherin characteristic when she had charmed the price tags of the dresses (for Ginny refused to leave the silver one behind in place for the green) so that the clerk was forced into asking for a much lower price for each. Still rather expensive though of course.

Hermione tried to talk her friend out of it, but to a muggle, it was a very difficult feat to change the price tag and bar code of a product with a stick of wood. So she kept quiet.

Once outside, two beautiful gowns weighing down her shopping bag, Hermione turned on her friend. “Ginny, that was illegal!”

“Since when have you never done anything illegal?”

“The war was a different time.”

“Well, relax, that’s the only time I’ve ever done it, and I promise, I _won’t_ do it again. I was nervous enough as it is.” She laughed but Hermione just sighed.

“Good, because I don’t want to see Harry having to imprison his own pregnant wife.”

“We’d have a cool baby though, you’d have to admit,” she said with a wink.

They both laughed and Hermione decided to forget about it as they discussed other shops to buy shoes and gloves. When it came to the matter of the mask, she had a vague idea of what she wanted in her mind, but she didn’t know where she would be able to buy a masquerade mask of all things.

Ginny was quite amused when she said, “Just make one yourself, it’ll be easy.”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m not that great at crafts.”

Ginny looked at her dumbly and simply pulled out her wand, waving it in front of her. The muggles walking past looked at her like she was crazy and Hermione quickly got the meaning, tugging Ginny’s hand back down. “Ginny, not in public.”

She only laughed at her friend and put a hand to her stomach as they kept walking.

\--

Hermione arrived home earlier than she had planned. Ginny had felt sick to her stomach soon after the gown shop and was insisted to go home and rest by a concerned Hermione. Ginny had assured her it was normal morning sickness, but Hermione didn’t want to risk anything.

So bags in hand, Hermione apparated in front of her doorway, and pulled out her wand to deactivate the wards. But as she rested the bags beside her and raised her wand, she felt her skin prickle.

Someone had already deactivated them.

Her thoughts went immediately to Draco, knowing the charm she’d cast would alert him to her as quickly as possible. The killer could have done this. It was the only suspect besides Draco and herself, and honestly the idea of either of them breaking in was ridiculous. Even Paul would have needed one of them to help deactivate the wards if he wanted to get inside. She didn’t know _how_ whoever it was got inside, but she hoped that it was indeed Paul.

_Please….please…_

She cast a _silencio_ on herself so she wouldn’t be heard walking inside her flat. She also cast a _disillusionment_ charm so she wouldn’t be as likely to be discovered.

Stepping into her own home, she made her way inside, heart hammering harder than she could remember. She was reminded of days when they were on the run, and was thankful that her body fell into the familiar pattern so easily.

Wand at the ready, she edged along the wall to where she had a clear view of her living room. She refused to blink as she looked around, breathing hard. Her palms sweat. Nothing was amiss in the living room, her magazines and books where she’d left them. She surveyed the hall and stepped quickly to the kitchen.

Nothing.

She stopped and tried to gather herself. It was probably nothing. Perhaps the wards had simply worn off or something…she realized how stupid that was and focused instead on just trying to calm her breathing. _Why wasn’t Draco here yet?_ _Maybe he doesn’t feel the heat of the wand. Maybe he was right—_

A loud bang erupted from her bedroom and she startled, gasping. Her heart thudded painfully once more and her mouth went dry. She cursed herself for making a sound.

Hermione gripped her wand with tight fingers as she walked slowly to her bedroom. She could tell it had come from her room because the sound echoed. It was the only place any sound ever echoed besides the kitchen and living room.

At the door’s border she could hear someone walking around, rummaging through her things. The steps were light and swift. No voice could be heard. Hermione poked her head around and saw nearly everything in her room was spilt everywhere. Clothes were spread across the floor, the bed, the tops of furniture. The bed was mangled with what looked like gashes in the wood posts, the sheets were torn and looking closer she saw some of the clothes were ripped.

The person was tall and thin. Dark brown hair spilled forward from the hood they wore and hid their face as they rifled through her dresser drawers, definitely looking for something. Hermione had half a mind to hex them there, but she refrained, choosing instead to keep the advantage of remaining hidden and trying to catch a glimpse of the person’s face.

“Fuck,” they whispered. It was definitely a woman. Hermione’s head reeled. They hadn’t investigated any women. No women were suspects. The only well known female supporter of Voldemort’s had been Narcissa—who was helping them—and Bellatrix who was dead.

The woman cursed again and turned away from view when she didn’t find what she was looking for. She angrily flicked her wand and the dresser tipped over violently, smashing to the floor. The woman walked to the closet doors and pushed them open, kneeling and continuing to dig through Hermione’s belongings. She saw a case of pictures she had kept of Ron and her when they’d been together, as well as some framed sets of Harry, Ron, and her when they’d been in school and after the war. The woman surprisingly looked through the first few rather gently but when it became clear it wasn’t what she was trying to find, Hermione watched with desperation as she chucked the box carelessly behind her. The sound of glass shattering wrenched Hermione and she felt her fear replaced with anger.

Tears blurred her vision as she stepped into the room, still charmed, and yelled, “ _Vermillious!_ ” A burst of harsh red light illuminated the room and for a moment the woman froze and Hermione could hardly make her face out when the hex hit its target and she was knocked down. The woman had yelped in pain and quickly stood, shielding her face from any hexes. Hermione, angry and beyond rational thought threw another hex at her but the woman countered it and ran past, blindly shouting a stinging hex at her. Hermione dodged it and ran after her.

The woman had pulled her hood tightly around her face as Hermione chased after her but she was hit with a blinding pain that made a severe, throbbing pain spider through her every nerve, the charms immediately faltering.  Her vision went white, and although she did not scream, she was sent to the floor, gripping the carpet there hard enough to tear. Her heart shuddered and faltered, trying to compensate for the erratic intake of breath. She felt her teeth pierce her tongue as she fell on her side, her body wrenching and curling in on itself as the _crucio_ sent her into memories she’d long ago forgotten.

Just before Hermione lost consciousness, she heard the woman disapparate with a deafening _pop_.

\--

Draco hadn’t noticed his wand heat inside his coat’s pocket as he tailed Blaise out of the Ministry. The man had been on his way somewhere in the middle of the day when he should have been working, and Draco had wanted so very badly to discover where he was going, who he was meeting with.

But Hermione took precedence over Blaise.

He swore for not noticing the heat earlier. A second could have made all the difference depending on why Hermione was summoning him.

And as he apparated a mere foot away from her, in the middle of her living room with the front door wide open—surprised the wards hadn’t prevented him—he realized a moment sooner would have been the difference.

His wand fell to the floor with a soft thud and he dropped to his knees, his hands hovering above her as he took in the state she was in.

She was twitching, jaw slack, saliva and blood dripping from her mouth and pooling at her chin. Her brown eyes were dull and stared aimlessly, not registering another presence in the room. Her hair went everywhere.

Something dark and fearful crawled inside him as he heard himself weakly force her name out. His hands grabbed hers and they were cold and sweaty. He pressed his cheek to her chest and was relieved to hear her heart beating, however unstable. He leaned back and his hands flew to her face, gently lifting her up a little. He saw that the blood was coming from her tongue. He wiped the saliva and blood away on his cuff, smearing it across her jaw, and rubbed his thumbs across her cheeks, trying to cause some reaction from her. Still, her name fell from his mouth in quiet, panicked repetition.

Draco’s pulse thundered as he moved her to a sitting position and supported her against his chest and continued to cup her face. He gently pulled each eyelid further back and looked into her eyes to see if light was registering.

Still nothing.

Fear ripped at him as his voice gained volume and he began to talk to her. As if trying to talk her back into consciousness. He sounded mad to his own ears but he couldn’t stop.

“Granger…Granger, please. This isn’t the war, this isn’t the Manor. You’re fine—you’re in your own home for Merlin’s sake. Wake up. You’re supposed to be working on the case. You’re supposed to be showing me that ridiculous l-laptop….laptop _thing_! Wake up! Dammit, look at me, Granger!” His voice caught. “Hermione, you’re supposed to be teaching me something I already knew! You’re supposed to be in the middle of showing me up. Cry, breathe, do something! We’re supposed to be insulting each other! Fuck, Hermione, wake _UP_!”

He shook her form and he felt angry moisture cloud his vision. She still didn’t stir. “Fuck…fuck! Don’t—you’ve been _crucio_ ed before, wake the hell up, Hermione,” he whispered against the skin of her jaw. He felt his body shake alongside her own twitching form.

He remembered when he’d been subjected to it in the Manor as punishment when she had escaped with her friends. Voldemort had been relentless but he’d not lost consciousness. The only thing he had done to recover was to sleep it off, pretend like it had never happened. In the Manor when she’d been tortured, he’d seen her regain consciousness and be apparated away with her friends. He had no idea how she’d recovered. Most of the victims he’d seen didn’t wake up, or they were hit with the killing curse straight after.

He thought about taking her to the hospital, but they’d ask too many questions. They’d find out about the case. Potter had explicitly told him to keep his mouth shut. And somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the reproachful words of Hermione, telling him the same thing.

But what if she didn’t wake up?

Draco couldn’t afford arguing with himself, so he grabbed his wand and _accio_ ed water, rags, and iced the water. He pressed the dripping cloth to her face and her neck. He put his ear to her mouth and listened to her breathing, it was coming out in slower and slower breaths. It was helping. Dropping the cloth to the floor he gathered her form in his arms and carried her to where he knew her room was.

“What the…” The room was torn apart, the furniture tipped over, ripped apart, and her clothes lay everywhere torn into pieces. He growled angrily and shoved things out of his way with his foot as he stepped to her bed. Clothes and papers cluttered it, but it was intact and after a quick bit of wandless magic, it was clear. He eased her onto her back and transfigured a chair out of a nearby lamp that was lying on the floor. Sitting, he _accio_ ed the water and rags to him again and set them on her night table after moving everything to the side.

Draco resumed his patient act of rubbing the cloth across the exposed skin of her face and neck, wiping the hair and smeared blood from her face. He seemed to breathe again when the twitching stopped and her eyelids eased close of their own accord. Only then did he allow himself to relax and think again.

Hermione was going to be alright. She was going to live.

The corner of her mouth was red with moisture after a while and he realized he’d never healed her bitten tongue. He cast a silent _episkey_ and proceeded to thumb the blood away. Then quite surprisingly she leaned into his touch when his hand lingered to cup her face. His eyes widened but kept his hand there.

Draco hadn’t expected her to be able to move, let alone respond to touch. He knew he’d done the right thing. He thought he’d lost her. What would he have done if she had died?

He didn’t know.

The yearning he’d been experiencing, the care he knew he had for her…it seemed it went deeper still. Something he hadn’t known until now, when the threat of losing her became so suddenly clear in one moment.

_I need her._

Draco needed her because she was his friend. It was so simple, he felt stupid. As if it was a child’s reasoning. He sat back and closed his eyes, pressing the damp cloth to his own forehead.

Being raised to follow and to not think had been the biggest personality hurdle in his entire existence. It provided him with friends like Blaise and Astoria, people who would do anything to find a means to an end. The whole of Slytherin had been like that, and Draco was no exception. But the war had made his family think for the first time.

Hermione had been making him think years before that. That’s when the line was drawn between his friends and himself.

She made him question himself, which she still managed expertly to do a decade after meeting each other. She’d always managed to prove him wrong countless times, something the majority of people who knew him were afraid of doing. She fought back. She was intelligent _and_ intellectual and was able to believe in her own opinions on things where other girls in his house would have ignored him or gone along with him. And most foreign to him, was that she cared. He’d never been on the receiving end of such emotion before and he was unused to it, but the way Hermione spoke to him at times made him feel like he was just a person. Just a human being.

And he’d never been treated like that. He always had the infamous burden of the name _Malfoy_ tagged on. She knew his history, and she looked past it. She didn’t ignore it, but accepted it.

He realized unsurprisingly that that was the most likely reason he’d been so civil. He had been trying so hard to show her he’d changed. That he wasn’t the foul git she’d hit in third year anymore. He was trying his hardest to make up for what he’d done. To apologize.

Removing the cloth, he watched as her now nearly still form breathed evenly. Her skin had cooled and she wasn’t sweating anymore. If not for the previous image of her bleeding and shaking on the floor, he’d have thought she was sleeping.

“I’m sorry, Hermione. You don’t even know how sorry I am.”

Her eyes darted underneath her lids when he spoke and for a nervous moment he thought she’d heard him, but she hummed and turned in her sleep, facing him now instead of the ceiling.

The thought occurred to him that the front door was still wide open and the wards still undone. Her room was a mess. He would stay here until she woke up and told him to leave. Until then, he’d reset the wards and reinforce them. And he’d clean up her room, fix the furniture as best he could. He felt compelled to fix things. Fix everything. And if physically cleaning her room was one way to fix things, he’d do it.

Draco stood and stared down at her, watching her with soft eyes. He smoothed her forehead with his thumb and watched as she instantly relaxed under his touch. He gave a rare smile and gave in to the urge to lower his head and press his lips to her cheek.

After a moment longer of just watching her, he left to go about his business, one thought still in his mind.

She couldn’t stay here any longer.

_\--_

_A mass of black curls. Echoing laughter that made her blood pump faster. The sharp press of a knife against her throat, her arm. And pain._

_Endless pain_.

_When it was over, she saw two bright grey eyes staring at her solemnly from across the Manor’s drawing room._

And then she woke up.

Despite the intensity of the dream, Hermione slowly opened her eyes to see the ceiling of her bedroom. Her head was aching worse than she could remember and her whole body felt like a rock had pummeled every inch of it. Then she remembered, she’d been cursed.

The intruder.

The killer.

Though she knew that if the killer wanted her dead, she wouldn’t be awake right now, so she had reason to believe that it was an accomplice. But then there was the possibility of the woman being surprised at having been found and didn’t react in time to actually kill her. Maybe she wanted to toy with Hermione. Maybe—

Hermione felt her head swirl as she tried to raise it and she groaned, letting her head loll back on the pillow. Pillow? Now that she thought about it, she was in her bed. She didn’t remember being cursed on her bed.

At the sound of her own voice, she suddenly became aware of many different sounds. Soft footfalls sounded in the corner at the foot of her bed, but she already knew who it was without having to raise her head. Seemed her charm had worked after all.

“Draco?” she called weakly, searching.

He seemed to stop and shift and then he spoke as if he was surprised she was awake. “Gr-Hermione, uh, how are you feeling?”

She heard the crunching of glass and a muttered curse and he was standing above her, his face in her line of vision. She saw relief in his eyes and she tried a smile, but it failed on a grimace.

Still quietly, she said, “Where is she? Did you get her?”

“Her?” he asked, surprised.

“The one who cursed me. She was a woman.”

Draco frowned and answered with a blunt, “I missed her. I didn’t notice my wand in time…” He paused and changed the subject, “How are you?”

She broke eye contact and looked to the side of her, moving her head despite the ache. She saw that some of the mess had been cleaned up and knew that Draco had taken the time to repair the damage the intruder had caused. She smiled a little at that until she saw the shopping bags that held the dresses for the masquerade.

Noticing her line of sight he said, “Those were outside and the door was open. I brought them in for you…” He noticed her questioning look and said, “I didn’t look inside.”

She relaxed a little, although it wasn’t a non-issue at this point. After a moment to gather her resolve, she tried to sit up and support herself on her hands. He moved back to let her have room and ended up sitting beside her, hands in his lap. She clenched her eyes as her vision swirled and cleared, and then she finally looked at him. He still had that look that was a mix of reluctance and relief. Like he didn’t know exactly what to do.

Looking around the rest of her room, she asked, “You cleaned my room?”

“Yeah, not too sure about the pictures of Weasel though. They were glaring at me when I flipped back your dresser.” She huffed weakly and ended up coughing. She noticed blood on her hand.

“Dammit,” he muttered. She wiped at her mouth and Draco handed her a damp cloth with red stains on it. She’d been bleeding for a while? She frowned and wiped her lips, noticing it was coming from inside her mouth and that she’d bitten her tongue.

Draco watched her during the whole thing and gestured to her mouth. “I tried to heal it, guess I’m not too good at healing spells.”

She waved her hand at him as if to say _don’t even worry about it_ and then said a quiet thank you.

“Do you want water?” he asked. She was surprised he wasn’t getting right to the point about her attacker. That was the most important thing. She could wait.

“No, thanks. I need to alter the charm to make the wand more noticeable when we need each other. And I’m fairly certain the woman is just an accomplice to the real killer. She was looking for something.” She gestured to her room.

“Papers were everywhere, I figured. But all that can wait, first—”

“Draco, we have to discuss this. I was just attacked. You need to know the details to tell Harry.”

He rolled his eyes and suddenly stood to leave the room. She was thoroughly confused, but then saw that he’d returned with water. He shoved it into her hands and commanded her to drink. She glared but drank anyway.

“There’s time for details later. You were just _crucio_ ed for Merlin’s sake.”

Hermione ignored the fact that her throat ached with the need for more water, finding her glass already empty, she held it in her lap while she argued. “I’ve dealt with it before. I’m _fine_.”

Draco scoffed and refilled her cup with a tap of his wand. He pointed at it. “You sound like a dying animal and your pupils are dilated. You can barely hold that cup your hands are shaking so badly.”

She looked down and indeed her hands were trembling. She let out an angry breath and took the cup from him again, only to drain it once more. She cleared her throat and said, “I’m _fine_ Draco! The case is more important and—”

Draco interrupted her, “No, you are most definitely _not_ fine. And _you_ are more important than the case, that’s the point.”

By this point their voices were raised and they were glaring at each other, but she knew he was right. She just didn’t want to take time away from finding the killer. The sooner they discovered who that woman was the better.

“I can’t just sit here and not go after the person who just cursed me Draco. It’s not in me to just stand idly by!”

“Dammit Hermione, as your _guard_ and as your…friend, I can’t allow you to just ignore yourself. It’s not healthy.” The pause was minute but there. He had almost said something else and she wanted to know what it was but he was talking again. “You know that. And besides, the person could have apparated anywhere. We have just as likely a chance as finding them today as finding them tomorrow. So for now, do something wholly un- _you_ , and concentrate on yourself for once.”

Hermione fought for something to say. Something to retort with, but if she shifted even an inch she felt spasms rock her nerves. Her hands and limbs trembled from where they supported the meager weight of the glass of water she’d drained again. Her throat felt better but she still spoke in a harsh voice. She glared at him but could do nothing more than rasp out, “Fine. But I can’t speak for what I’ll do tomorrow.”

“If you want to go in wands blazing that’s fine with me, but for now, drink and rest.” He tapped her glass yet again and it filled once more with cold, throat soothing water.

Draco seemed to know what to do. She wondered how many times he’d found the need of cold damp towels and endless glasses of water and bed rest. Maybe he hadn’t had the luxury and was simply improvising. He looked wild-eyed and unsure but determined. Hermione wasn’t sure what would have become of her if he hadn’t found her there on her floor. The first time she’d been _crucio_ ed her hands had shaken for days as if her nervous system was suffering aftershocks. She’d wondered when the headaches would end. Overall it wasn’t that big in the scheme of things, but at the moment it was a frightful experience and she felt overcome with the need to hug him.

But she refrained because she needed to uphold her resolve. That’s what it was for. To seem firm in her decisions, but with everything that had happened to her all she wanted was to touch another person. To feel that life. To have that comfort.

She wanted Draco.

But she stopped herself from thinking too much on it and instead chose to watch him as he went about and mended the broken framed pictures the woman had thrown against the wall. Shattered pieces were mended and one by one, her box of photos of life past were put back together again. She watched all this with an even stare, forcing herself to not feel the emotion that still lingered when she saw those photos. That’s why they were in a box safely tucked away in her closet. Draco, to his credit, didn’t complain as he handled the many images of glaring Rons that were shouting silently at him.

At her direction, her room was slowly repaired and free of all the clutter that had resulted from the woman’s chaos. She thanked Draco and he settled himself beside her once more. She handed him the water and he drank from it. Finally, he listened to some of the things she had to say about the attacker.

That it was a woman with long brown hair, dark clothes, tall and thin. She was angry and liked to show that anger. Her first reaction hadn’t been to kill but to disarm or stun and then she was fleeing when she cursed Hermione. That was why she believed her to be an accomplice.

Draco agreed with this and seemed to have been in another place when she was describing her appearance. Hermione touched his arm and he snapped his eyes to hers, saying, “I’ll look into it. But now we have a bigger problem. They know where you live.”

She nodded.

“She knew how to deactivate the wards. She _knew_ Draco.” Her grip tightened as his eyes scanned her face.

What he said next was devastatingly careful. “It’s not safe here for you anymore.”

She felt tears prick her eyes as she nodded and said, “I know.” She lowered her head and her grip loosened as she slid her hand down to clasp his. He cradled her hand in both of his.

They sat a moment in perfect stillness, punctuated only by Hermione’s residual twitching. Each time one wracked through her, Draco squeezed her hands between his own.

Hermione watched with heavy eyes as he moved his thumb over her wrist.

“Stay with me. Tonight please,” she blurted.

At no reply she met his eyes and was about to shrug it off and dismiss it at his stunned expression but what came out was an explanation. “I just need something different, Draco. Will you?”

He was fighting with himself. She could see it in his eyes. He didn’t want to stay. He wouldn’t. She knew that. But still she hoped.

Finally, he whispered, “I have work in the morning.”

It was a poor excuse.

“Just the night.” She was losing hope with each passing second. Regretting more and more what she had asked of him. Why had she asked him to stay? She should never have crossed the line like that. Never should have instigated that she felt something more for him, never—

“Alright.”

Her head reeled with more than just a headache. Her heart hammered.

Draco had crossed that line with her.

\--

Draco could do nothing to resist the weak pull of Hermione’s hand on his as she motioned for him to sit next to her. He blinked and shrugged off his robes and shoes, now just in slacks and his dress shirt. She scooted over with shaky movements and watched as he shimmied in beside her. It was early evening, and yet he found no problem with staying here all night. He didn’t want to find a problem, and he didn’t want to leave her.

Had she never invited him to stay, he wouldn’t have. It wasn’t his place to ask for such a thing, even if he found himself wanting such things more and more with each passing day. But right now was different. He didn’t know what she would do if she was left by herself. She might decide to go after her attacker, and that would certainly spell disaster with the state she was in. And he wanted to make sure she was alright. It wasn’t just his _assignment_ to protect her anymore, he wanted to. He didn’t want to lose her.

He wasn’t completely clear on the details yet, but he just knew that he wanted her around for as long as possible.

But here she was, tugging his hand and asking him to stay the night, _in her bed_. Yes, it was probably just a plea for human comfort, but she had asked _him_. She could have just as easily asked him to leave and invited one of the Potter’s over. It was Draco she wanted.

His chest did that uncomfortable thing it usually did around her and he wanted to rub at it, but her hand was back in both of his. As he settled back against her headboard she leaned her head of bushy brown curls against his shoulder and looped her arm through his, clasping his hands in hers. He inhaled as slyly as he could, her hair was lovely.

Draco heard the weak temper of her voice as she murmured, “Thank you.” He replied by squeezing her hand reassuringly, unsure of what to say.

“Sometimes I wonder why people even need comfort, like on a philosophical level.

It caught him off guard. “What?”

“People who seek out comfort get attached and in the end that attachment leaves them heartbroken. So why seek out comfort? Why feel the need for it?”

She seemed to be speaking to herself but he answered anyway, “People who believe they don’t need comfort are lying to themselves.”

“But why? After everything…it’s so difficult to believe in trivial things like relationships. Like comfort. It might be easier to be on your own sometimes.”

“You sound hopeless,” he commented.

He heard her snort. “I’m just thinking aloud is all. Sorry.”

After a while he said, “This is comfort, isn’t it?”

She had not moved from her spot on his arm but when he spoke, she raised her head and met his eyes. He watched her as her mouth set into a line and she looked to be thinking hard about something. She looked down at their hands, clasped so intimately together. “Yeah…it is.”

“Hermione.” Her name came out as light as breath. Realizing how close they were, foreheads almost touching, their breath mingled as she lifted her gaze once more to his. It felt like such a natural thing to press his forehead to hers and watch as her mouth twitched in anticipation for what both of them knew was coming. Slowly, her eyes slipped closed. She leaned in to him.

Her lips were full as they met in a first kiss that sent a delicious jolt through his entire body. He felt her breath fan across his chin as she pulled back and then her lips were on his again and he felt the warmth of her once more. His hands moved to grasp her face while hers bundled in the fabric of his shirt at his waist.

It was gentle. Completely new, but something Draco found he was beginning to enjoy with every passing moment. Hermione shifted closer to him and he resisted the urge to bury a hand in her hair. Finally, he broke the kiss, not wanting to pull away so far that he couldn’t still feel the press of her lips on his with every sway of breath. She had her eyes closed, lips parted, breathing hard from the kiss or the residual pain of the curse he couldn’t tell. But her cheeks had flushed pleasantly where before she was so deathly pale.

She pulled away and for a moment he wondered if he had read the moment wrong. His hands fell away from her face only to have her readjust herself and lie down beside him, her head in the crook of his arm. He somewhat awkwardly lowered his arm to place his hand at the small of her back and she let out a comfortable breath at the contact. Relief flooded through him.

After a while of simply lying next to each other, he noticed her fidgeting quite a bit so he lowered himself so he was lying alongside her. Her arm went to drape over his waist and he felt the pleasant weight of it as he breathed. He wondered what she was thinking, he could only guess it was something pleasant because she was relaxed against him and her breathing so even he thought she’d fallen asleep.

But then she spoke rather suddenly and he was taken away from his thoughts. What she said was completely apart from what he’d expected her to comment on. “Should I use some Polyjuice for the ball? I could get some from Neville. That should be less suspicious than asking him for some for our plan.”

It took him a while to contemplate it. He was sure no one would recognize her, especially not if she was dressed up. “A mask should be plenty enough. Maybe put your hair up.”

“Yeah, that’s what Ginny said.”

Hermione seemed to be in thought again and so he went on, “The day it lands on is the third, so about two weeks.”

Draco felt her shift beside him, her brows pulled together. He noticed the freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks as she spoke. “Two weeks?”

“Yeah. What is it?”

“Nothing, just so soon.”

“Well any later and it could interfere with the original Polyjuice plan.”

“True.” She shifted her gaze to stare at her closet door, and then said after a long time, “Should we redo the wards?”

“Already taken care of.” He smirked when she looked surprised. She smiled faintly at him. “But I stand by what I said earlier.”

“And what is that?” she asked, the strength returning to her voice.

“That it’s not safe here for you. They know where you live. Killer or not, they’re willing to use unforgiveables. You can’t stay here.” Frowning, he watched as she sighed and felt rather than saw her fingers dig into his shirt.

“I don’t _have_ anywhere else Draco. This is my home.” She said.

“You always think you’re so alone in everything. You have Potter and the Weaselet.”

“I couldn’t force that kind of pressure on them. Harry is heading the case and Ginny is pregnant, the last thing they need is to have a target in their home.”

Draco very nearly suggested another redhead, but he caught himself. He could have hit himself for even thinking of suggesting such a thing. What was he thinking?

So instead he said, “There’s an extra room in my flat.”

He had half expected her to hit him, but she was laughing. Like the idea was a frivolous joke he had thought up. Her shaky laughter died when she saw he was serious. “I can’t do that, Draco.”

“And why not?”

“Because…because it wouldn’t be right painting a target on your home either, on you—”

“Don’t get all ‘don’t sacrifice yourself for me’. I’m honestly welcoming you into my home.”

She looked doubtful. “Look Hermione, I’m not offering. I’m telling you, for your own good, you need somewhere else to stay until the killer’s caught.”

Hermione, with some effort, sat up so she was looking down at him. “Draco, that’s asking a lot. Do you even know—”

“Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn’t be telling you to move in. It’s for your safety.” At her look he sighed. “Temporary,” he reminded, voice soft.

She sighed and ran a hand through her mess of curls. “Draco, look. I know there’s… _something_ here, between us. But moving in with you, even for my protection against whoever that woman was…that’s a lot.”

“Where else do you have to go?” he said slowly, forcing his point.

She brought rested her face on her palm, tilting her head to the side. She looked so incredibly vulnerable sitting like that just staring at him, trying to understand what he was thinking. He didn’t even really know. It was an idea that left his mind all too soon but he found it was actually a good idea. Hopefully it would throw the killer off a little.

Maybe give them some time.

Her answer sounded like an echo.

“Okay, Draco.”


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning Hermione woke feeling well rested. Her limbs didn’t ache as much and she felt much more stable. Her hands didn’t tremble and she could move without pain spiking through her. But one thing that put her a little on edge was the absence of Draco.

She sat up on her elbows and turned to eye the spot where he should have been lying, but it was empty. The sheets were rumpled, but cold. Then she remembered he had work this morning and she put it to the back of her mind. She shouldn’t have been bothered by his absence anyway—it wasn’t required of him to stay or her to worry just because they kissed.

They kissed.

That memory hit her like a brick to sand, and for a moment all she could do was smile. It had been such a sudden turn of events, but hadn’t they been leading up to this? Hadn’t the constant flirting and almost kisses meant to lead to exactly that one moment? They weren’t playing around anymore. It had become real.

Hermione turned to lie on her stomach and stretched her arms out before her where Draco had lain. Somehow, she felt the ghost of his arm on her back as if they were still lying together. For a few hours as they had switched topics from the case to nothing at all she had felt more at peace than she could remember.

The majority of time they spent together they argued or bantered but every once in a while,they shared private moments filled with ease and she found she was growing fonder of them with every passing day.

She pushed her mind to remember her dream. She could remember a shadow of one but no luck. It was gone from her the moment she had moved. It was the first time she’d slept through the night in a while. The last few months she’d gained mild insomnia by thinking of her failing friendships with Ron and Harry and would worry even once sleep did take her. Her dreams would be replays of her arguments with Ron, the forlorn looks of Harry as they passed each other at work. She’d dream of the war, that final battle where so many friends died.

“Stop it Hermione, you’ll ruin your good mood,” she said aloud to herself as she dug her head under the pillow Draco had used. He had put her at ease, even in her dreams.

She didn’t think too hard on what it could mean, instead choosing to focus on the distinctly Draco scent clinging to her bed. It was a welcome change.

Maybe now she’d be able to sleep better at night. Now that Harry and Ginny were back in her life, she was going to make sure they’d stay there. She didn’t know what would come of Ron just yet…that would have to sort itself out when the time came.

And Draco.

Now that there was someone else in her life, she didn’t want to lose him either. She’d had enough loss to last a lifetime. She had no idea what this _thing_ with Draco was or where it would lead, she just knew she’d fight to maintain it for as long as she could.

They both deserved that much.

\--

Hermione had packed only two bags when Draco had arrived after he got off work. He stepped from the floo in smart dress robes and a lightness to him she hadn’t seen before. He seemed easier around her somehow, and she knew why.

Though while Draco seemed at ease she was a chaotic mess. She didn’t think about it much all day but as soon as he appeared in her living room and their eyes met, her collected thoughts scattered. Ridiculous, honestly! Indignant, she strode to him and simply stared up at him with raised brows.

He gave her a strange look, smirked at her and said, “Yes?”

“You told Harry about the attack?” It had been on her mind all day. She wasn’t in work today and she was worried that an owl would arrive too late to really make any difference, whether she sent it to Harry or Draco. So she’d relied blindly on the chance Draco would’ve taken the time to do it.

“Of course,” he snorted. “He said he’d visit you after he got off work, but I told him you wouldn’t be here.” Draco looked past her, eyeing her luggage.

She placed a hand on her hip both relieved and affronted. “You think I’m coming today?”

“Yes, when else was I supposed to be expecting you?” He brushed past her and took a relaxed seat on the arm of her couch so they were eye level.

“I—I don’t know!” she said, turning to him. “I still have things to pack.”

“Merlin, it’s not like you’ll be living there forever, just until the killer is caught,” he said, eyeing her humorously.

Truthfully, she hadn’t remembered that when he’d suggested—more like commanded—that she move in with him last night, wasn’t a dream, it was an actual proposition she’d agreed to. She didn’t even remember until a few hours before his arrival, and had no idea of when he’d be expecting her to be packed and ready to go so she’d just thrown all the clothes she had into the two bags. She wasn’t even sure if she had what she really wanted.

Draco must’ve seen the indecision on her face. “You did agree to it, remember?” He watched her look down, sighing. “Potter agrees it’s the best course of action.”

She bit her lip. “I knew he would.” She moved her hand to her mouth and thought. It was the only logical move short of moving in with Harry, who was busy with Ginny and work, and she’d never impose upon them. And Ron…wasn’t even a choice at this point. Draco was all that was left.

It wouldn’t be awkward. Whatever it was that was…them.

He placed a hesitant hand on her hip and smirked at her when she met his bright grey eyes, the confidence there betraying the action. She felt her face flush.

Not awkward at all.

Right?

\--

“Your house is so…dark compared to mine,” Hermione remarked flatly as she rolled her luggage over the edge of his floo.

Draco huffed. “Technically it’s a flat. And I told you before, you have awful taste.”

She rolled her eyes and waited for him to instruct which room was empty for her. One bag in hand, he walked past her and into the hallway. She rolled after him and stopped at the first door.

He motioned his hand to it but did not open the door. “This is my bedroom.” Pointed to the one in the middle directly across from his room. “That’s the study.” And the last door next to his bedroom, which she fully expected would be the guest room, for where else would she sleep? “And that is the library.” He watched her reaction as it went from surprised and excited for him having a library to confused. He took out his wand and walked to the end of the hall which simply squared off at the end.

Draco flicked his wrist and a door matching the dark wood of the others appeared before him, directly at the end of the hallway. He stepped to the side and opened the door for her.

The room was reasonably large, larger then her own, with dark wood flooring and a large window at the back. She wondered how it fit into the main structure of the building itself, but didn’t worry as she stepped inside and set down her things. It must’ve been a spell familiar to that of the one cast on twelve Grimmauld Place.

He placed her bag next to the door and said, “You didn’t have to shrink down your furniture, I could have transfigured some.”

Hermione shook her head and said, “Feels more at home this way.”

He nodded as silence pervaded the space between them.

Already the awkwardness is setting in, she thought bitterly.

Hermione desperately wanted him to say something, anything to break the silence between them because she didn’t know what to do or say in this particular situation. And she knew it was hopeless because she knew he was thinking the exact same thing. So she only muttered a quiet, “Thank you.”

Draco never suffered more than he had to so he nodded and, after a moment longer of eye contact, left. He closed the door with a blunt and audible click. And she was alone.

“Too bloody weird,” she muttered as she knelt to fish through her bag to bring out the miniatured version of her bed. Walking to where the window was, she placed it at the foot of the window and restored it to its usual size. Ironically, the orange and brown of her bed went quite well with the dark walls and floor.

Hermione continued this until she had her bedside tables and dresser set up to where she thought them appropriate. It was just over an hour of rearranging and organizing the foreign room that she began to recognize her own vaguely within it. She discovered a door as well and opened it to reveal her own bathroom, walk-in shower and all. She was shocked that Draco would go to such lengths to outfit a _guest_ room. But she wasn’t complaining as she trailed her fingers delicately over the marble countertop of the sink. In some twisted way it was like a small vacation.

She laughed at herself for thinking such a foolish thing and resumed her busy work of trying to make a home within Draco’s home. As strange as it was.

By the time she had set everything up that she’d packed, her room looked as if she had only changed the walls and flooring, which looked quite nice if she was being honest. The single window allowed just enough light to keep the room pleasantly bright and she was glad for it. In a way. she’d expected Draco’s rooms to be dungeon-like.

When Hermione had stepped tentatively out of ‘her’ room, she didn’t quite know where to go. If he was in his room she didn’t want to disturb him, and she didn’t know much about the rules of his home. She needed to ask him when she found him.

Draco was in the living room, turning through a book that he simple flipped shut when he noticed her presence. He watched her as if he was waiting for something.

She asked with poise, “I’ve finished settling in, I was just curious as to your ground rules.” She looked at him with expectant eyes and he smirked.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Ground rules. Surely you have areas you don’t want me poking around in?” she said, honestly thinking of his room. She was surprised he hadn’t started bossing away at her. Though he was acting rather strange ever since she was attacked. He seemed...more resigned.

“I know you’d live in a library if you could, and my study has nothing of too much import in it, besides work on the case, and you’ve seen that already. Really, just knock before you enter my room.” She nodded sagely, accepting his terms which were rather loose. He shot her a roguish look. “Of course, I wouldn’t mind a surprise visit.”

Draco winked and she could hardly believe it, her thoughts jumping to the night before. And she wanted so very badly to kiss him again. The thought was so sudden and so fierce she had to physically take a step back and restrain herself from acting on her thoughts.

However her thoughts were mirrored in his eyes, the same desire burning openly within them. He stood and she took another step back, now at the front of the hallway again. He walked to her with his hands in his pockets and stood just before her, chests almost touching. There was nowhere to go now and she was forced to look into his eyes. He tilted his head slightly to the side and smirked again when his hand brushed her hip and settled there, making her eyes widen.

Blond hair tickled over her forehead as he lowered his face, her eyes closed automatically and her hand found his wrist as their lips met for a second time. It was chaste but left her thoughts reeling as he spoke softly to her, “Two weeks. Remember now.” A small amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he was walking past her, to his own room. The door shut closed and she was left standing there dumbly in the middle of the hallway.

She groaned to herself and moved to his couch, picking up the book he’d forgotten. It was a biography on a famous wizard author. She was surprised he’d be reading something like it, and she soon found herself immersed in the story of an author she’d read many books by. It was nice to read a book of someone else’s collection.

Yet she could not escape the feeling of his lips pressed against hers, the way he leaned his body against her for the briefest of moments before stepping away.

It left her wanting more.

\--

Draco was aching when he reached his room. It was all he could do not to jump the woman right there in the hallway. Seeing her want reflected through her brown gaze only solidified his own desire for the woman. Hermione was living with him now, however, and he had to control himself.

It could very well get out of hand.

He could no longer deny that he wanted her, their first kiss had only made his desire grow. But he knew she wasn’t certain of it just yet. Draco wasn’t even sure.

_Brilliant timing to suggest moving in, Draco._ Though it _was_ for her protection.

The description of the woman she’d given him was disturbing. It had sounded close to Astoria’s physical appearance, but Hermione had surely seen pictures of her before in the tabloids and would have been able to spot her in a second.

Though why would Astoria have any reason to even be aware of Hermione Granger? They had nothing to do with each other. There was no motive. None at all. This small fact put Draco’s mind to ease only slightly before he stripped down to his shorts and crawled into bed.

The heavy thoughts of tonight could wait for tomorrow.

\--

The first few days were easy enough. They stayed out of each other’s way and it was becoming clear to Hermione that maybe this live in situation wasn’t going to be as intimidating as she initially thought. Having separate bathrooms allowed for the avoidance of awkward run ins in the morning as they both rushed to get ready for work. Flooing to work was easier and simpler than waiting around for him to show up in her living room. And they had so far shared two meals. She quickly learned that Draco wasn’t much of a socialite when it came to sharing meals, choosing instead to eat in his study to continue with the work he took home from the Ministry. Hermione suspected the only reason he’d bothered to prepare two meals for the both of them and eat with her was for her own benefit. She’d told him she could make her own meals and she had seen the relief in his eyes as he nodded and shrugged it off.

It was a decision gladly made because the few times they had eaten together had been rather awkward. Not because he didn’t talk much, which didn’t bother her, but because he’d been so strange since he’d kissed her. Twice. He’d been much quieter and hadn’t been nearly as snarky as he usually was. She expected it was due to the case, but the small looks he gave her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention gave her reason to think otherwise.

After the first day, she’d managed to convince herself she was alright around him. That she was well enough recovered from the initial shock of actually having kissed that she’d be able to be perfectly normal around him again. Hermione didn’t consider the fact that she wanted to kiss him again as a threat to this belief.

But every time she found him meeting her eyes with that indiscernible emotion in them she caught herself looking away. She couldn’t point out what he was feeling or thinking and that annoyed her. She was good at reading people. But yet again, when she thought she had everything figured out, Draco proved her wrong and found a way to confuse her again. The looks were becoming frequent and she had hoped at first it was just her imagination.

But the small touches, the small flirtations, and his almost kisses of late made her a flustered mess that couldn’t dismiss the looks he gave her. Hermione was a mess of jumbled thoughts and she didn’t truly know what to make of it. She wanted him, but the case took priority. If they did…something, then she didn’t know how it would affect the case.

So she dedicated herself to avoiding him for the meantime until she figured everything out. It was all she could do.

On the fourth day she emerged from her room to make herself some supper and she caught sight of a familiar tousle of blond hair on the couch. He was lying down, and immediately met her eyes as she rounded the corner.

He smirked at her and she could feel the intent heat of his eyes on her as she made her way to the kitchen. She trailed the beautiful counter tops to the drawer she’d found some cereal in the day before, opting for a simple meal before bed. She hadn’t come out much today after work and it was the first time she’d seen him since.

She startled when she heard the smooth tone of his voice close behind her. “Theo owled me that Blaise let slip he’s leaving work early tomorrow.”

She spoke without turning. “Any idea where he’ll be going?” Realizing the cereal wouldn’t take long enough, she rummaged through cupboards to find something else to fix for herself.

“Not a clue. I was thinking of tailing him.”

She found nothing of interest and turned finally to see he was stirring her spoon around her cereal. He took a bite without breaking eye contact. She said, “He must have an idea that you’ve been doing that for a while?

“Not so far. I would Polyjuice myself, but none in stock I’m afraid.”

Her thoughts went to the brew that was half done in his study. She’d stored it there so it was easy to check in on. In a quick change of thought she said, “Be careful.”

“Always am.” A moment passed between them and she still didn’t meet his eyes. He frowned but it went unseen. “Will your brew be done by next week?”

She watched her cereal bubble as it became gradually soggier. “Yes, but that’s your mother’s ball, not our ordeal with Blaise and Theo.”

He took a step closer to her and she was well aware he was trying to get her to meet his gaze but she focused on his chest. He said, “I figure it’ll be better to move after the ball is over. He’ll be relaxed and won’t be expecting anything.”

She saw the logic in that. “He’ll be more likely to meet with Theo, even though he disagreed with him…” His hands grasped her sides and she closed her eyes briefly at the contact. Fought to keep her thoughts together. “And it’ll be easier for us to escape unnoticed.” He was _so close_ , and he smelled so good. “Might not even have to bother obliviating him.”

A final step and he was flush against her, pressing her against the counter gently with his face lowered to the crook of her neck. Unconsciously, betraying her want to keep it together, her hands went to his arms. She shifted back towards him and the sound he made had her lightheaded.

He breathed in and razed the fine hairs of her exposed neck as his lips ghosted over the smooth curve. Resting at her collar bone, he spoke, voice noticeably raspier, “ _Exactly_.”

When his lips rested firmly over the dip there, she exhaled quickly in a simple pleasure she’d forgotten. He sucked until she felt his teeth gently graze over her skin and she made a small sound of surprise, angry she’d so easily forgotten that she wanted to think about whatever it was they were doing.

When she pulled his face back he looked confused, something that she found suddenly and irrationally adorable but then he quirked an eyebrow and it lost its boyish quality. She wanted very badly to kiss him then but she stopped herself.

“Are you alright?” he asked steadily.

“I just…I need to sort things out.” Draco’s eyes narrowed faintly but he stood to his full height and after a lingering second, removed his hands back to his sides, running one through his hair. The nod he gave her was swift, his eyes flicking around her face.

Hermione moved around him and left behind her ruined bowl of soggy cereal to return to her room.

A long while passed before he moved.

Draco took the bowl with a frown and dumped it into his sink and switched on the faucet. With dark eyes he watched it disintegrate under the steady flow of water.

\--

Hermione was avoiding him. He was sure of it. She stayed in her room most of the time and he hardly saw her when they were home together. At work, she always seemed to be out of her office or on her way somewhere. Twice he’d tried kissing her or touching her and the most he’d get was a shy smile and then she’d side step him, leaving him alone.

She’d responded to his touches and kisses, so her rejection was confusing. If she was so obviously interested in this… _thing_ , then why was she avoiding him now? It made no sense.

There was the ball in two nights time. And the brew of Polyjuice was almost finished. She’d be forced to interact with him eventually. But he was becoming antsy with waiting. He’d already openly acknowledged his desire for her, and she for him, so what was the deal? He was beginning to feel foolish for starting anything in the first place, and the last thing he wanted to be was a fool.

Draco decided it was time to stop waiting for her and confront the situation. He was sick of the not knowing. Tired of not being able to touch her when he wanted. It was driving him batty being so close to her, _living_ with her, only to be pushed away.

They were at work and he was sitting in his office, brooding over memories of the last few days. Another moment and he’d be driven mad, so he ran a hand through his hair and stood, pulling the door open widely on his way out.

Draco strode with determination over to Hermione’s office, consciously ignoring the many whispers surrounding him on the way there. He had no time to listen to them, they didn’t matter. He was going to confront the issue with her whether she wanted to or not, and nothing would stop him. He needed to get it out into the open.

He reached within five feet of her door when a flash of annoying red hair entered his vision and he met the eyes of an angry looking Weasley.

The Weasel had no reason to be over this way, not unless he was here to speak with Hermione about their last encounter. He doubted it though, the lump was too thick to talk anything through.  He had randomly walked in front of him, as if he’d been waiting for Draco to show up in front of her office.

Immediately he narrowed his eyes in suspicion and bit out harshly, “Watch it Weasley, people _are_ walking you know.”

Ron continued to glare and said with badly-hidden contempt, “You going to see ‘Mione?”

Draco scoffed. “As if it concerns you. And I doubt she’d appreciate you calling her that awful nickname after what you said to her.”

His eyes widened and he said defensively, “She knows I didn’t mean it! And why the hell are you going to see her so much anyway?”

So, he had been keeping tabs on Draco. “Following me now are you Weasley? I didn’t know I had a fan club.” He smirked and it sent Ron over the edge.

His anger took control as he yelled, “Malfoy, You’re going in there for more than the case, I know it!”

“Oh then if you know that, then why are you standing here waiting for my confirmation?” He shrugged past him and went to grab the knob of the door.

He was whirled around and shoved back against the door, the knob digging into his hip. He was significantly taller than Weasley and he smirked widely at the obvious difference when Ron got up in his face, holding his collar tightly. He practically spat on him as he hissed, “You better watch yourself Malfoy, I—”

The door swung open and both men tumbled back slightly before regaining themselves. Hermione looked at first surprised at the pair and then furious as she glared at Ron. She snapped at him, “What do you want?”

He steadied himself and looked between the two of them before stepping back and muttering an unforgiving, “Whatever.” He left without looking back.

Hermione stared after him for a while, to the point Draco began to wonder if he should leave or not. He wanted to talk with her but not at the risk of setting her off. But her eyes were dry and set hard as she closed her door and turned to him. She looked up at him with a strangled expression and breathed out exasperatedly, reaching a hand up to cradle her forehead.

“I’m sorry about that, he’s been camping outside my office for the last few days when he can. It’s become an issue, obviously.” She reached out and straightened his collar, hands lingering for a moment before she decidedly crossed her arms.

“He’s been watching me too,” Draco muttered, already missing her hands against him.

Hermione shook her head and said tiredly, “A year ago I never would have expected that, but now, it’s almost normal to think he would.”

Draco observed her as she closed her eyes and simply leaned her head against his chest. He grasped her waist and held her against him and waited for her to speak. This was better than how she’d been regarding him recently. He’d be lucky if she stayed within his company for longer then was necessary. He wasn’t going to let her leave this time though. He wanted to know what was wrong. The Weasel could wait.

Hermione stopped him by speaking first, voice muffled by his shirt, “Draco…Do you really believe the Polyjuice plan will work?”

“Of course it will.” Because he did believe it would work. It had to.

“After we find the list of names, we’ll hand them over to Harry.” She lifted her face to rest her cheek against him now, bringing her arms around to loosely hug him. Her eyes remained closed as she thought aloud. “From there on, he’ll have a reason to put Zabini on suspension, at least.”

“Zabini has a silver tongue. I wouldn’t be surprised if he managed to weasel his way through any questions. Potter might not have a choice but to let him go. You can’t detain someone on suspicion alone.”

“Harry knows the situation though. He wouldn’t take any excuses, he’d investigate until he found the true reason.”

He sighed and said, “You’re really going to hand the entire case over to him?”

Hermione looked at him finally and he was surprised to find she was smirking at him, as if she couldn’t believe what he’d just said, “Well, no. But he needs to know that Zabini is keeping things from him. He’s aware there’s a woman on the killer’s side as well, as far as we know. So he needs all the leads he can get, even if he said we can’t work on this case.”

He regarded her a moment. “Don’t you ever _not_ work?”

“No,” she said with a small smile.

Draco snorted and the air shifted around them. His grip tightened on her hips and she seemed wary but he wasn’t going to let her escape this time. Her hands fisted in the back of his shirt. He leaned in but felt the skin of her cheek instead of her full lips. He frowned a little and was aware he was practically pouting but he didn’t care.

“You keep doing that, Hermione,” he told her.

Draco saw something flash behind her eyes and she said, “I told you. I needed to think about things.”

“What’s there to think about?”

“The case! There’s a killer after me, Draco and the last thing I need to worry about is starting something with you! Don’t look so nonchalant about it, I know you feel it too. This _thing_ has been floating back and forth between us for weeks.”

She tried to retreat again but he held her firmly in place. “Of course I’m aware! I’m sick of ignoring it, so I’m acting on what I want.”

Hermione looked for a moment at a loss of what to say but then she withdrew her arms and tried to pry his hands away. It was futile, but still she tried, until she was flailing in his grasp and had angry tears pricking at her eyes.

Angrily, she snapped, “I don’t want to risk anything!”

“What?”

She looked at him defiantly but gave up on her attempt at flight, opting to look away as she blinked to rid herself of the annoying tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again.

Draco raised a brow and asked, “What risk?”

Still nothing.

He stared as she breathed in shakily and looked at him with shining eyes, so desperate and full of thoughts.

“Hermione?” he said softly.

“I—I don’t want to risk losing anyone else.”

Of course. Since the war, and the skirmish with Weasley and Potter, she’d had a keen issue with loss. He never thought he’d be included in that. Never expected to be. It shocked him but he was roughly thrown out of reverie as he realized she was running a hand under her eyes to dry them swiftly. She exhaled greatly and blinked until she could speak without her voice shaking.

“I just—I don’t want to lose you since we’re…different now.” He moved a hand to her face. “I’m afraid of what will happen if I do. So…I think its better that we stay like we were, until this case is over. Then we can think about other things.”

She gave him one long look before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. It felt like a promise. She frowned against his lips before she pulled away and it was all he could do not to cross her.

So, reluctantly, he agreed. “Alright.”


	16. Chapter 16

The night was not a peaceful one. Imaginings of her expectations of the ball appeared before her, elegant gowns and beautiful masks twirling in slow dances. And then there were the people. She dreamt of encounters with Lucius and Narcissa. She dreamt of Bellatrix attacking her like she did so many years ago. The single chilling word _crucio_ repeating in her mind over and over again.

Lucius put an arm around his wife’s waist, looking as regal a couple as they come, beautiful in their aristocratic bigotry, despite what that truly entailed.

Draco stood alone, looking only at her. A figure in black stood whispering one word again and again.

_Crucio. Crucio. Crucio._

A flash of white and a jolt of pain and she flew out of bed, her heart pounding. She sucked in huge breaths and fought to calm herself. Her shirt clung to her skin with sweat and she pulled it away. Lying back, she fanned herself with her wand, trying to cool off.

She closed her eyes and fought away the memories, her hands shaking despite herself.

The stabbing gaze of Bellatrix still fresh in her mind, itching with cruelty. Draco’s lonely stare so pained and far away as he stood removed from the family he’d been born into.

\--

Draco walked hurriedly along the muggle streets of London, a strange place for someone of Blaise Zabini’s ideals to be, though it was equally unlikely to see Draco there as well. He could only hope that the tabloids didn’t somehow find them and blow his cover. The last thing he needed was for Rita Skeeter to be all over the case.

He walked behind the darker man some few dozen feet, making sure to walk with the small clusters of muggles so as not to be seen by him. Though Zabini suspected nothing and walked ahead with purpose.

They turned down a street filled with retail stores, plenty of social activity to slip through unnoticed. Draco raised a brow and watched as Zabini slowed and stepped inside a rather expensive looking tailor. Not strange considering the ball was tomorrow night and he would be expected to show. Draco frowned and straightened his robes.

This was a dead end.

Though when a familiar face sauntered inside only moments later dressed in a stylish dress and heels that clipped the pavement a little too familiarly, he had reason to believe that Zabini’s trip to an outfitter had another meaning altogether.

What reason would Astoria have for meeting with Zabini?

Hermione’s words echoed through his mind as he remembered the scene of her shaking on her living room floor. He frowned at the memory and decided to take a closer look. He didn’t want to believe the words as she said them, but he had guessed correctly at her description of her attacker, a tall woman with long brown hair.

Astoria _had_ attacked her.

Draco felt a cold twist in his gut as he thought of the implications, and what it meant for the case. There _were_ two people.

As he drew close to the entrance of the shop he peered inside and saw they were tucked away in the corner, talking together near a display of stylish robes. Zabini did not look happy, the sharp tilt of his lips and hard glint in his dark eyes told Draco he was accosting Astoria about something while also browsing the shelves. She had that look she usually had before she was about to whine and then start crying. Pitiful expression it was. Draco figured the store was large enough to slip inside without detection to listen in. The pair would never notice him.

Shrugging his posture and stepping quickly, he slunk his way around the corner of the hall and placed himself towards the end where Zabini and Astoria stood conversing. He could hear them clearly, and as long as he kept his face covered with the spools of colorful fabric he was behind, he wouldn’t be seen.

Zabini was quietly furious. “You were _seen_ , there’s no way you can continue being a part of this. No matter the leverage you possess.”

Astoria sounded broken, desperation dripping from her every word. “There’s still time. There are plenty of other chances. She didn’t see me!”

“So fucking daft! It can’t be risked, you had your chance and failed. After tomorrow, I no longer require your services.”

There was the sound of footsteps and Draco caught sight of manicured nails snatching Zabini’s sleeve before he walked any farther. “But my _sister_ —”

“What about her?” he snapped.

“You and her…for it to work, you need me,” she insisted. But Draco knew that tone. She was panicking and trying to keep it controlled.

“Oh?” Amused laughter. “Why is that?”

No answer and Zabini was walking again. Draco moved to the farthest side of the hall he could so he’d be able to duck around the corner if they decided to turn down this hall. At this point he was feeling a tight ball of anger settle within his chest.

But he got lucky, Zabini was already leaving the store. Astoria clicked after him and snatched his robes once more, like a desperate child wanting attention. “We both want her out of the picture, and you need me to help you do it! You don’t want the Ministry asking you questions do you?” Draco felt as if his stomach was jumping hurdles, the thought of Hermione twitching with blood smeared on her skin coming to mind again.

“Why would they ask me questions?” he asked in a threatening tone.

It gave her pause. “…Because…you wouldn’t want the Ministry to have specific details leaked to them, would you?”

Draco didn’t know Astoria had it in her. He watched with morbid interest as Zabini stepped towards her, ran a finger along her chin and whispered something to her that escaped Draco’s range of hearing.

Astoria’s jaw went slack, and she looked up at Zabini in shock before he was gone.

Astoria remained where she stood, looking more troubled than Draco had ever seen. The fear was plain on her face. Darting her worried gaze around the store, she clicked out after him after a few moments’ thought.

The question overran his anger for the moment—what had Zabini told her?

\--

Hermione turned her wand above the brew of Polyjuice to churn it while reading a book on pureblood customs. Some sections referenced the dawn of time, though she doubted such a thing could be recorded accurately over so many millions of years. Not that it wasn’t possible, just hard to believe. It wasn’t as if magic escaped evolution.

The brew would be done within the next few days and it showed by how it bubbled promisingly. She eyed the small baggy that still held Theo’s hair within it, and wondered at how it would turn out. Hopefully not as repulsing as her experience as Bellatrix had been.

This was how Draco found her, reading a book about Wizarding origins and grimacing over the caldron of Polyjuice brew. She had arrived at his home by herself today as he needed to trail Zabini.

He arched a brow at her and she simply flipped the book shut after taking a quick look at the page. She charmed the brew to continue stirring before crossing her arms, wand poking out by her side. She was curious how it went.

The longer the silence dragged on the more she sensed something was wrong. Had it gone wrong? Had Zabini caught him? The questions amounted as she waited for him to speak. He met her curious stare. “Astoria Greengrass was the one who attacked you.”

Hermione had not been expecting that and she faltered for a moment, her eyes widening and her mouth hanging open weakly before she uncrossed her arms and set her wand down. Taking a step forward she asked, the surprise evident in her voice, “ _What_? How do you know that?”

He seemed completely dour, the unmistakable bite of truth to his voice, “I tailed Zabini to a muggle tailor in downtown London today. Astoria was there, and…he sent her to search your flat. He was angry you saw her, it wasn’t part of his plan. They…” But he cut himself off and she saw the muscles of his jaw clench as he glared at the wall, away from her.

She crossed her arms once more and prodded, “They what?”

More clenching and he brought a hand up to rub over his mouth and chin, before he met her eyes once more and very sincerely reached out to touch her face briefly before it dropped back to his side.

“They argued. I think Astoria has something on him—they mentioned Daphne.” He shook his head, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. When he settled his eyes back on her, he murmured, “They want to kill you.”

The blunt statement contradicted the storm behind his gaze and she frowned at it. They knew there was a killer after her. Someone wanted her dead and now she knew, _they_ knew, for sure who wanted it. But having the facts before her, having them stated so plainly caused an entirely new rush of emotion to hit her, as if she was hearing the news all over again. Having the truth be so entirely real for the first time and clearly set out before her hit her hard, and for a minute she felt her head spin.

Draco took her reaction as a sign to continue, fury painting his words. “You’re not going tomorrow night, it’s too dangerous. I won’t—”

Her eyes snapped open and she swatted him on the chest with enough force to have him jump slightly at it, he pursed his lips at her in surprise. “Don’t you dare, Draco! I am _not_ backing out now just because we know for sure who the killers are. I—”

“No, there are too many places in the Manor where they could attack. I’m not having you die in—”

“I’ll be with you the entire time! I’m not so childish that I’d go wandering off in Malfoy Manor of all places, so—”

He grabbed her face in both his hands and kissed her, more to shut her up than anything else she suspected but she still didn’t approve because she told him she needed to think about things and what was she going to say before he kissed her and weren’t they supposed to be arguing and he was angry right?

Mustering her thoughts together with difficulty she summoned her arms up and gently pushed against his chest until there was some amount of distance between them. He still held her face in his hands and she imagined she was in much the same breathless state as he was right about now but didn’t really care as she glared at him.

“Draco. I am _not_ going to sit in your home and twiddle my thumbs over you as you’re out interrog—”

Draco interrupted her with a brush of his thumb, his voice firm. “Now that we’re sure of who they are, there’s no real need for interrogation is there?”

She could only glare harder. “I’m going and that’s final.”

“You sound like my mother.”

She snorted at him and pulled away from his grasp, though still stood in close proximity. “It’s a masquerade. I won’t be recognized.”

He only gave one look at her hair and she crossed her arms once more, rolling her eyes, “Not even _you_ will recognize me.”

Draco only stared at her, his fury morphing into intrigue. There was skepticism in his voice when he said, “I doubt that.” He caught a stray curl of her hair with two fingers.

“Trust me.”

“I do,” he assured her. She tilted her head and sighed. “Remember when you said you didn’t want to lose anyone else?” She didn’t need to nod to confirm it. “I don’t want to lose anyone either.”

Hermione looked up and had a few words for the look in his eyes just then. She could only breathe.

\--

Draco’s words were stuck in her head the rest of the day, leaving her to contemplate just how much their relationship had changed from a bitter unwanted reunion to whatever this thing was between them.

They had eaten together that night, though neither really talked to the other. The simple fact he’d placed a plate of steak in front of her when she’d passed by in the living room was enough to suggest that he was thinking deeply about the events of today as well. He was bothered by it being Astoria just as much as she was, even more so seeing as how he’d dated the woman. She wondered at his thoughts on the new development, wondered if he’d had an idea of who it had been by her description alone.

As she asked herself questions she couldn’t answer, she missed the way his eyes roamed her face as he ate his own food.

\--

Hermione awoke on her back, eyes opening slowly and voice groggy from sleep as she raised her arms above her and stretched, sighing at the pleasurable pop in her bones. She rose as if rising from the dead and realized it had been a good sleep, despite the news of yesterday. She wondered how that worked for the better, but it didn’t matter now anyway.

She swung out her legs from under the covers and stood, eyeing the bag of gowns Ginny had bought at the foot of her closet, still unwrapped. She rubbed her eyes once before grabbing her wand and _accioing_ the blank mask to her, staring at it in her hands.

She was going tonight, and no one would stop her, not even Draco Malfoy.

\--

There was a certain grace with which she was handling herself this morning. She had this slight sway to her hips and a quickened pace to her step as she scooted around him, getting breakfast and going about her day, just as he was.

Draco watched her read her book for the better part of an hour as he ate his own breakfast, not quite noticing just how intently he was actually staring until she sensed it and turned her head. She caught his eye and quirked a brow before he looked back down at his food, eating before she could ask any questions.

Hermione wasn’t having it though. “Draco.”

Rolling his eyes into his food he asked tightly, “What?”

“Tonight about the—”

He cut her off, looking over to find her staring at him with wide brown eyes, determined and hopeful all at the same time. He ignored it. “No. I’m going by myself.”

She stood and walked over to him, book still in hand as she stood over him. He gave her a look before he stopped eating and met her eyes, waiting for the onslaught that was sure to come.

“How has the measure of danger changed since I was attacked?”

He wasn’t expecting that. “Because we know they mean to kill you now, much.”

“Hasn’t that always been the issue?” she huffed at him.

“Putting you in the same area as them, when we know they _mean to kill you_ is much more dangerous than leaving you—”

“How is it safe to be stuck here without my _bodyguard_?” The last part was sarcastic and he was interrupted as she continued on without even a pause for breath. “You know that saying _keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer_? Well, this is a perfect example of it!”

“Gra—”

“Still having the chance to investigate anyone else in this situation will be irreplaceable, unless your mother plans on throwing a huge death eater ball every week. It’s too much of a chance to pass up.”

“Herm—”

“Draco, I’ll be with you all night. I’ve read about pureblooded aristocracy and I know enough to pull off an act. I know the facts, the customs, the—”

He placed a hand on her hip and stood, brushing past her as he carried his plate to the sink, rinsing it quickly and leaving it to sit. He hadn’t even turned yet when she was right there, babbling away again. “They won’t suspect a thing. I _know_ how to handle myself in a situation and—”

He coughed out a laugh. “Not in this one you don’t. No matter how much you read up on it, there are still certain issues that arise in conversation. A name, a family history. People _will_ ask questions about a pureblooded witch they’ve never met before.”

His pointed look had her glaring up at him, hands on her hips and a newfound level of indignance to her tone. “I was debating over names since you told me about it. I was thinking Macmillan or—”

“Considered a blood traitor.”

“—or MacDougal, Gamp, Burke, even Rosier—”

Draco snapped his eyes to hers and she startled. “ _Rosier?_ Are you joking? They’ll be all over you.”

“Not necessarily. I know the most about your family history, as well as the Black family history and it’ll be easier to make a story based on what I already know and be sure about it rather than go off a few solid textbook facts and not have any room left for trickier questions. I don’t want to be caught off guard.”

They stood staring at each other for a few tense moments before he finally exhaled, the hot air fanning her hair slightly and he said, “I’m not going to convince you to stay here, short of caging you am I?”

She smirked. “I’d still break out.”

“Mischief suits you,” he told her. Her smirk wobbled and he went on. “It’s safer you go as someone lesser known. Like MacDougal. No one gives a shit about them.”

She ignored the last part and said enthusiastically, “I was very nearly sorted into Ravenclaw, so it’ll be easy to pull off.”

Draco merely nodded, contemplating how tonight would go. He really hoped Zabini and Astoria wouldn’t show up, or if they did that they wouldn’t bother with them in such a public setting. He wasn’t sure he could keep himself in check if something…bad, were to happen. Spells may end up flying.

He’d not seen nearly enough of Hermione in a situation where she had to pretend she was someone else, so he hoped she was a damn good actress when it counted. Polyjuice was one endeavor, pretending to be a pureblooded aristocrat was another entirely. She had to look like she knew what she was doing, not just talk like she did. He knew she’d have no problem reciting entire paragraphs of factual evidence at people, but he didn’t know if she could even hold a wine glass correctly, or knew which order to eat the hors d'oeuvre’s in. If she knew you had to wait to pass a couple who held seniority. Did she even know who held seniority?

It seemed his worry was plain on his face because she swatted his arm playfully with her hand and started listing off everything she knew.

As she talked on and on and on about a life he’d grown up living, he decided he’d teach her everything he could before tonight. He had to.


	17. Chapter 17

 “Tell me why I’m allowing you to go again?”

“Because they never said exactly _who_ they were targeting and that is reason enough to go and investigate,” Hermione replied, a triumphant smile on her face.

Draco ran a hand through his hair and then eyed her. “Oh. Right.”

She turned to go up the stairs and muttered almost inaudibly, “Besides, like I’d just sit back and wait.”

Draco certainly knew that. Hermione Granger was a woman of action. He’d been stunned all those years ago to find that she’d taken off with her friends to participate in the war rather than school.

It was foolish to try and persuade her to stay here while he went off gallivanting around at a party of death eaters, and he knew that. But her stubbornness did not erase his concern. He decided he’d simply drop it for sake of argument. He wanted to focus on pulling off tonight instead of arguing about something he knew he wouldn’t win.

They’d agreed after practicing a typical set of evening questions that he would do most of the talking unless someone directly asked her a question. He knew she’d ignore that _agreement_ just to prove she knew everything there was to know about the MacDougal’s, which no death eater in their right mind would truly care about the personal history of. He knew she knew what she was talking about, but maybe someone would recognize her voice from back in school. Maybe someone would recognize that bloody hair of hers and their cover would be blown, and then their off-case investigative work headlined every newspaper in the morning.

No, that would not be good.

Draco figured the safest way to go about things was to mingle as quickly as possible, move around a lot, and perhaps cool on the balcony for large amounts of time. The less amount of contact she had the better. Besides, he was certain Zabini and Astoria had been regarding Hermione when they met in the tailors. Bullocks with needing a name, he _knew_ they were talking about how Astoria had been seen, how she failed to…kill her.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and went to rest on the edge of the couch, waiting for her to finish up getting ready for the event tonight. He was already dressed, blond hair slicked, his black tie resting over the dark green dress shirt and tucked into his black vest. His suit jacket unbuttoned and falling open to the sides as he sat there, matching smartly with his black slacks and shoes.

His anger mounted the longer he sat thinking about it, so he twiddled his wand between his fingers to try and distract himself. It wasn’t working too well.

Draco felt a light touch on his shoulder and he realized Hermione had been standing right in front of him for Merlin knew how long. He was so bothered with heavy thoughts that he didn’t hear her walk down the steps. He met her eyes, at first missing her appearance entirely and noted the raised arch of her brow and the questioning look in her eyes.

She crossed her arms and said, “So, are you staying now or…?”

He didn’t answer as he was busy staring at the brown curls falling from a silver pin at the top of her head. No makeup, save for a darker coloring of her lips and as he finally managed to drag his eyes from hers he noticed the green gown she wore. Tiny pearls sat in the bunches of fabric and he saw that she held a simple feathered mask in her hand, two dots over the eye holes in place of eye brows.

Hermione stilled as his eyes trailed over her body, and lingered on every bit of her as he locked eyes with hers again. She looked hesitant, her cheeks red. His lips quirked in an attempt to stop himself from jumping her right then, opting instead to stay in and ravish her.

He sneered at the wall in refusal of his tempting thoughts. She punched his arm lightly and he cocked a brow at her.

“If I’m really that awful looking I guess I will stay here.” But her eyes held amusement and she snorted at him before she said, “I’m glad I chose green instead of silver since your shirt…” She gestured a hand at him and he nodded stupidly. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

She raised her mask to her face, attaching it magically, and he could see she was waiting for him. The mask only served to partially shield her gaze from him.

“The host and their family don’t wear masks. It would be bad manners if guests couldn’t point out who to thank.”

“Oh, such a tragedy.” He wondered at her snarky humor tonight but he rather liked it. She laced her arm through his and said, “Come on Master Malfoy, you have one MacDougal to entertain.”

Tempting thoughts be damned he wanted to blow off the whole ball and tackle the woman now but he breathed out a gruff chuckle and chose, “You’ll certainly be entertained, but I won’t be calling you MacDougal.”

The flash of her wide brown eyes told him she’d not missed his meaning. He smirked just before apparating them both to his family’s Manor.

\--

The Manor was just as Hermione remembered it, though there was a significant lack of white peacocks running around the gardens in front of the estate. The gates gleamed in the oncoming darkness of early evening and shone almost amber in the orange light cast upon them from the low hanging sun. She still had her arm linked through Draco’s and it was interesting passing through the gates as if they were smoke instead of being dragged through like the last time.

Draco seemed to sense her thoughts were straying as he spoke just then. His voice coming out slowly and sounding as if he hadn’t used it in quite a while, “You’re quite beautiful in green, you know.”

She looked up at him, surprised he’d said such a thing and she was reminded of when she’d first tried it on. They walked in silence beside each other, her nerves growing as they approached the intimidating knocker.

She squeezed his arm lightly when he met her eyes through her mask and she recognized the worried gather of his eyebrows as he regarded her silently. She bent her head a little and kissed him lightly, just beside his mouth and when she stepped back she saw a small smile worming its way into place.

The knocker, which was a solid silver loop, thudded loudly on the wooden door of its own accord, under an arrival enchantment she assumed. A few heartbeats of pre-event jitters and then the door was opening before them in a great wide arc, welcoming the pair of them to an ornate rug over a white stone floor. A small house elf greeted them, to which Hermione beamed at him, and then gave a pointed look to Draco. He nodded down at the elf.

He asked the elf smoothly, “Knarl, where is my mother?”

“Misses Narcissa is in the ball room, Master Malfoy, yes. Follow Knarl, Master and his Misses.” Knarl bowed low and then stepped aside for them to enter, Hermione said her thanks graciously and Draco nodded once more.

Knarl apparated away with a loud crack and they were alone, standing in the hallway she remembered clearly. The stairs that lead to the dungeon that Harry and Ron were dragged to. The hallway to the door that held behind it the room she was tortured in, the drawing room.

Draco noticed her gaze drawn to _that_ hallway and turned his body so he was standing in front of her. Their joined arms forced her to turn with him and she was grateful for the small move.

“The ballroom is this way,” he said lightly, pointing to a large double doored entry that was closed.

She was beginning to suspect something. “Are we the first ones here?”

“Yes. My mother wanted to meet you before the party took her attention away.” His lips curled amusedly but hers only twitched.

“Well, I suppose that’s to—” A loud crack and Knarl was before them again, gesturing with a bow of his head to follow him up the second pair of stairs that she’d never been up before.

Before Draco could notice as they were ascending the stairs, she took one final glance back at the door that held so much evil for her.

\--

Narcissa was just as beautiful as she was depicted in the newspapers. Just as beautiful as when she’d seen her briefly all those years ago, but calmer and healthier looking. She was pale, with white blonde hair just like Lucius and Draco had and wore it up tonight in a neat bun pinned with a silver clip. She wore a slick light blue silk gown that trailed just enough behind her to be considered a ball gown and it had a hem at the bust also gathered by a small ensemble of pearlescent jewels. Her lips were red and eyes circled in ashy black, but it suited her.

She greeted Draco first naturally, bringing him in for a hug before pulling back and smiling gracefully, her hands grasping Draco’s shoulders fragilely as if he’d break. He’d dropped Hermione’s hand in the process.

Hermione refrained from listening in on their conversation that was exchanged in small whispers and only perked up when Narcissa said her name.

She had stepped back and was facing her now. She arched a perfectly trimmed eyebrow and Hermione realized she was wearing her mask; she quickly removed it and smiled to hide her embarrassment. Narcissa smiled slightly at her and raised her hand out.

As Hermione shook her hand, she realized how delicate the woman’s grip really was. She wasn’t sure if it was how she normally was or years of being taught pureblood daintiness had simply been engrained in her since she was a child. Their hands parted and the older woman spoke, her voice keen but not shrill, “I understand you’ve been having quite some trouble at work these past few months?”

Hermione knew she was aware of the case, just not how much she was actually privy to. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with in the past.” She thought it sounded harsh compared to anything else that she could have said, so she added in at the last moment, “But Draco has been very helpful.”

“I would hope he has,” she laughed quietly.

She smiled, feeling a bit more comfortable that Narcissa was laughing. “There were times when I didn’t have anyone else and he was there.” She smiled at the memory of that first night he’d gotten her the wrong blanket. Everything stemmed from that one night.

She saw Draco shift his weight out of the corner of her eye and glanced over at him. Narcissa motioned at them both. “Come on, let’s have some tea before everyone arrives.”

She guided them farther into the room and Hermione noticed the interior for the first time. Still the same flooring and a wall that was hung with many different moving portraits. Knarl appeared shortly after they were seated around a small table along with two other house elves with trays of teas and assorted cakes. Hermione chose to steep her tea and let it cool a bit before drinking right away.

Narcissa asked casually, “You are a muggleborn, from what I understand?”

_Here it comes_. “Yes. My parents are dentists.”

Draco practically stuffed a whole cake in his mouth and watched the exchange. Narcissa thoughtfully replied, “Hmm. One who specializes in teethe I presume?”

A wistful smile was on her face as Hermione nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! I’m surprised you knew that, not many in the Wizarding world are aware of Muggle careers.”

“Latin roots are the same no matter if you have magic or not,” she said into her sip of tea.

Draco smirked and reached for another cake. Apparently he had a thing for sweets or he just wanted something to occupy his mouth so he wouldn’t have to talk too much.

Narcissa spoke again, “Times aren’t how they used to be.” Setting down her tea, she grew serious then. “A great many things have changed since the war, one being my son. Or else he would not have accepted the task he has. I would like very much to say the same for myself but I’m afraid I haven’t been immersed in nearly as much… _cultural exchange_ as my son has.”

Hermione looked on resolutely, fully expecting this conversation to happen. And now that it was, she wasn’t surprised. Draco was growing tense beside her, pausing in his cake devouring.

Narcissa trailed Hermione’s gaze to her son and watched him for a moment. “However,” she said softly, “I believe Draco has been happier since he’s taken on this job. And I believe you have had a rather large part in that.” She was smiling when Hermione met her eyes. “Inviting you here tonight is my way of giving you my blessing.”

Draco sputtered, “Blessing?!”

Hermione was less brash but couldn’t keep the laughter from escaping for just a moment, the sound coming out as a snort. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m only saying that if anything was to _develop_ then—”

“Mother!”

Hermione couldn’t muster think of what to say, instead blushing and nodding on a quiet, “Thank you.”

\--

Aside from the rather unusual introduction to Draco’s mother, she couldn’t say she expected it to go any better. Quite the contrary, she’d expected the woman to sneer and spit at her very presence, not welcome her into her home. Not to accept whatever this little flame was developing into with her son. How had she even known about that? Was it that obvious? Had Draco told her something?

She was drawn from her introspection when Draco squeezed her forearm lightly. He looked as if he was fortifying himself for something and as she looked around she saw the familiar form of Blaise Zabini approaching them, an opulent blonde on his arm with a stately smile. She bowed slightly, quite the formality considering she was bowing to Hermione and _then_ to Draco. Her dress fell to the floor in subtle waves and was pristinely white. It reminded Hermione of a wedding dress in some ways.

If they realized it was Hermione on Draco’s arm, they didn’t let on. Though she was certain Zabini knew, how could he not? Especially after what Draco had discovered in the tailor’s.

After the formal greetings were exchanged Draco inclined his head and said quietly so only the four of them would hear, “Daphne, Blaise. I see you two are getting along well.”

The dark man sneered ever so slightly and said in a forced civility. “As are the two of you it seems.”

Draco’s grip tightened imperceptibly and she knew he was regretting bringing her here tonight. But she piped up before he could say anything else, addressing Daphne then. “It’s lovely to meet you, Daphne was it?” She seemed oblivious to the men around her.

“Yes. Daphne Greengrass,” she eyed her hair as if wondering, and Hermione fought to maintain her identity as Brie MacDougal, trying to silently exude that snobby gall they all seemed to carry wherever they went.

Zabini eyed her curiously. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name?”

“Brie MacDougal. I know Draco through his mothers’ connections to Beauxbatons, though I’m afraid my schooling had to be cut short due to the war…”

“Oh?” Daphne seemed genuinely interested and Hermione could see in her eyes that she truly wasn’t aware of the darkness her boyfriend and sister held within themselves. Zabini to his credit as a Slytherin wasn’t buying it, despite Hermione’s best attempt at a soft French accent. Daphne continued, oblivious to Zabini’s intent stare through his black mask, “The war must have been a dreadful toll on your family. Though surely it did not go so far as to France?”

“I’ll admit it wasn’t as bad as it was here, from the stories I’ve heard, but many of us left for the safety of our families.”

“It must’ve been nice being in the comfort of people with similar values? Being stuck at Hogwarts those last few years was awful! Too much muggle blood was left if you ask me.”

Zabini smiled at Hermione’s tiny flinch and Draco’s glare. But Hermione continued playing into the favor of Daphne, knowing she’d have to act well tonight to pass off her appearance. She knew Draco disapproved of talking so much, but Zabini _knew_ it was her under there, so why not have a little fun with it? It was rare she got to experience the thrill she had all those years ago when she was searching with Harry and Ron for the Horcuxes.

“Oh I agree. I’m rather ashamed to say a lot of my family turned the last few years. The MacDougal name is not as it once was.” She finished her little appeal with a disgusted wave of her hand and a frown.

Daphne nodded sagely as she ate her act right up. Zabini wasn’t having it. He seemed rather amused as he goaded her. “Oh really, _Brie_? Far as I know, the MacDougal name was never really of much standing.”

She fought the downward tilt of her lips as she said, “True, our name has never been as prominent as Malfoy or Black, though there were those of us still worthy of what nobility we had left.”

“And where were you during the war? Hiding with your family after fleeing sweet Beauxbatons?”

“My family chose to keep me safe from the brunt of war. Many families did.” She cast a small knowing glance up at Draco but he wasn’t looking at her, his glare was trained darkly on Zabini.

A gentle hand lighted on her free arm, and Daphne was gazing at her with almost motherly concern. “There’s no shame in that. You’re alive today and that’s all anyone could have wanted from the war.”

“Among other things,” commented Zabini. Daphne rolled her eyes, the motherly moment gone in an instant. Her hand withdrew to gasp Zabini’s forearm to where she was resting both hands around his outstretched hand.

Draco felt now was a good time to escape by taking Hermione’s arm much the same way, his hand enveloping her own atop his arm to to lead her away with a forced nod. But Zabini stopped him short with a few choice words.

“See you soon.”

Draco’s head snapped around so violently, Hermione heard his neck pop. His furious glare went unseen as Zabini and Daphne had already turned and were walking away.

Hermione brought her other hand up to rest her gloved fingers atop Draco’s white knuckles. He dragged his eyes away from their retreating forms to finally rest on her reassuring gaze. She smiled at him, albeit weakly and he let out a ragged breath that fanned the top of her forehead.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Whether he meant tonight or the case, she didn’t know. But she led him away to the outside balcony, where she’d seen him eyeing longingly earlier tonight. Maybe his temper would settle then.

He seemed reinvigorated by the early evening breeze, the cold bite of fresh air refreshing their senses as the calm wind blew around the Manor, undisturbed by mere human events like dances and killers. Hermione leaned against the balcony’s edge, perhaps unladylike for a fancy pureblood, but it wasn’t like someone would run out and accost her for it.

Draco let out a loud exhale beside her and then was right there, leaning against the edge alongside her. His hands dangled over the edge and he laced his fingers together.

“Tonight’s going well,” she murmured.

Out of her peripherals she saw him sneer and she laughed at the expression. He cast wary grey eyes on her as if he was worried for her mental well being, but was moved to an amused smirk before he said seriously, “You’re handling yourself very well. I thought that old man was going to fall asleep you gave him such a history lesson.”

She thought back on one of the first encounters she’d had tonight. She was still so nervous it didn’t take him more than a quiet greeting before she launched into who she was and her whole background story. The man listened patiently, but clearly wanted to be rid of her. Draco for his part, had sat back and watched with quiet satisfaction.

“Hey, it still worked didn’t it?” He nodded, that smirk still there.

Hermione looked to the ground, so far below, so green. A few of the dancing couples had wandered out back for a walk in the gardens. Farther away she saw a couple hand in hand avoiding a rather intimidating white peacock as it paraded by. Ah, so that’s where they’d moved them.

“I think it’s safe to say the worst has passed,” she told him.

Draco clenched his jaw and he lowered his head, looking to the ground as well before he suddenly stood up and leaned against the balcony facing her. He was regarding her with an unreadable expression.

“For tonight maybe. But Zabini still plans to—” He frowned and looked away, not able to voice the words.

She was surprised by the sudden emotion and she grasped his wrist, his attention not wavering from the balcony’s floor. She spoke with quiet assurance, “A few more days and I’ll search his office. We’ll be able to charge him and begin an actual case against him. And Astoria.”

His other hand went to hers and rested lightly atop it, his fingers playing absently with her own. As she finished speaking, something seemed to occur to him and bright grey eyes flashed to hers.

“She’s not here.”

“What?”

“Astoria. I haven’t seen her all night.”

“Well…you told your mother not to invite her.”

He looked into the open ballroom, the guests walking around and mingling. Laughter drifted out to them every so often. Draco seemed to be searching for Astoria’s tall figure among them.

“Yes, but I suspected she’d still arrive anyway with—”

A gentle press of her lips to his hand stopped him and he looked at her curiously. She said softly, “You’re overanalyzing. She wouldn’t set foot near you after what she did to me, especially if they know I saw her. Or at least suspect I did. It would be too much of a risk for her.”

He gave her a pointed look. “Polyjuice.”

“Wouldn’t have had the time,” she stated firmly.

Draco frowned again, and the start of a sneer was coming on when he withdrew a hand and ran it through his hair, the slicked blond locks thoroughly mussed. He said tiredly, “I’m going to get drinks, wait here.”

“Alright,” she said, releasing her hold on his other hand. He walked as if he had no desire being here any longer. She recognized it because she felt much the same, though she took it better than he did. This was business, and she was eager to get the job done.

\--

A significant amount of time had passed and still Draco had not returned. Hermione was worried, but she pushed the annoying emotion away as she fought to rationalize the reason for his delayed return.

He could have been distracted by his mother, she had a way of digressing. He could be currently swarmed by guests awaiting their turn to pay respects for the tragedy the war had caused their family name, the poignant absence of Lucius, and Narcissa’s attempt at a normal party. But it was unlikely.

Hermione drummed her fingers along her silk covered thigh as she thought for a moment longer on it. What if he’d gone after Zabini? He was angry and had a way of provoking things that were already provoked. Zabini could have cornered him. Or Draco could have cornered Zabini.

Either way, the worry now taking control, Hermione let her rational side back down and let her fear take hold a tiny bit as she left the balcony. The noise of the ballroom surrounded her once more as she was enveloped by the chatter of the crowd. She scanned the room.

No Draco. No Zabini.

A little ways off she saw the familiar full figure of Daphne talking it up with another acquaintance but she wasn’t with Zabini.

Where the hell were they?

Deciding against the tiny voice in her head that whispered _don’t_ , Hermione left the large busy ballroom for the empty dark hallways of the Manor itself.

The enchanted doors closed behind her and she was alone.

\--

Draco held two wine glasses in his hands, red wine glistening under the false lighting of the ballroom as he made his way through the mingling crowd of pureblooded aristocracy. He rolled his eyes and fought a wince as his raw knuckles seared as they brushed along the shoulder of someone’s clothing.

He’d been in the loo for the past twenty minutes. He was angry and had to get away from her for just a moment to clear his head. Clear his anger. The last thing he needed was to get angry and have her pissed off at him. He’d needed to let off steam and so he’d silenced the room, locked himself in and punched the wall until his knuckles split.

It was stupid, but he didn’t give a shit. He felt better. He knew she’d be pissed it took him so long to get drinks but that he could handle. But he was greeted with an empty balcony, and his thoughts sunk to dark places as he realized she was now probably wandering alone somewhere, without him.

Without him.

Wandering alone.

In _fucking_ Malfoy Manor.

_Fuck_.

Glowering into the encroaching shadows of night, he set the glasses down on the nearest surface. A grimace and then he was snaking his way through the crowd, searching for a luxurious green gown and a bun of wildly curly brown hair.

When he found no sign of her, he spotted Daphne across the room. _Alone_.

He practically ran for the exit on the other side of the room.

\--

The corridors were almost completely black, the shadows creeping along the walls ominously. If not for Hermione’s silently cast _Lumos_ she didn’t know how she’d manage to navigate the halls. The portraits were watching her as she walked the lonely hallway, casting down not only curious gazes but reproachful and hateful glares as if they could tell who she was. Maybe they knew. But they said nothing. She didn’t know if this was simply an unspoken rule of respect in Malfoy Manor, that the portraits simply not speak to the guests, or if they were charmed to silence.

Whatever it was that was keeping them from spitting hateful comments at her, she was thankful for it. Not knowing if there was someone expecting her somewhere within these hallways was beginning to sink in as she searched for Draco. It was becoming stiflingly real that she was wandering around alone, with no idea what to expect.

She stepped with caution, careful to make as little noise as possible. Pausing at every end of a corridor, waiting a breath and then hesitantly peering around the edge, looking down the opposite way to see if there was any threat. So far, nothing. No Zabini. No Astoria.

No Draco.

Biting her lip, she kept walking, her low heels beginning to bother her. She kicked them off and reached down, hooking them between her fingers as she pulled out her small purse with an extension charm. As she set them inside and snapped it shut, she swore she heard a small almost inaudible thud somewhere before her in the darkness. The light from her wand extinguished immediately when she heard it. Nothing followed. It was as if the sound had never happened at all.

But it was there, the way her heart hammered, her ears straining to hear so hard they were hurting with the pressure, she had _felt_ that thud. It had happened, but what had caused it?

She found the edge of the wall, her fingers touching first the edge of a portrait and then trailing over the texture of the enchanted oil. Chancing a glance at the portraits, she was surprised at what she saw. They too seemed curious at the noise, looking this way and that between themselves, completely unbothered she dared lay hands on their careful paints. That much she could see before her.

Suddenly she was back in the hallways of Hogwarts, sidling against a wall avoiding a death eater until she was able to throw back a spell. Too similar was the situation. She glared into the darkness as she pushed the memory away. But she couldn’t stop from breaking out in a nervous sweat, collecting on her brow and making her mask itch. She ripped it off and stuffed it in the bag as well, all without noise.

_Thud_.

Her neck whipped in the opposite direction, eyes wide and heart painful against her ribs. Her ears were failing her, the silence becoming so loud it was becoming overwhelming, deafening. It was difficult to focus on where the sound, so quick in coming and leaving, had come from. It sounded as if it was jumping corridors, apparating between them.

But she could feel the noise. Like tasting a smell. It seemed strange and improbable, but that’s what it was. Her safest bet was to wait for another thud and this time she’d be ready to find the origin.

But the thought only managed to calm her slightly.

The quiet stretched on, time passing incredibly slowly as she breathed deeply, fighting the onset of pre-battle panic. Suddenly she couldn’t remember why she’d ever left to find Draco in the first place, knowing full well he’d been back eventually. If she’d stayed, by now they would have been enjoying drinks. Maybe even dancing.

It was a stupid thought even when she was shielded in the darkness.

_Thud_. _Thud._

Behind her. Turning she stared into the darkness. Nothing there, no further sounds.

What the hell was going on?

\--

Draco pounded the wall with a fist. No Hermione. Not anywhere.

Where the hell was she? Malfoy Manor was huge, she could have been anywhere, but in the short time he’d been gone, she couldn’t be farther than the corridors themselves that surrounded the ballroom. The darkness was annoying, something he’d always despised about his childhood home, but it couldn’t be helped. The only thing he could do was keep his wand lit and held far in front of him.

His grey eyes were bright and livid as he stepped quickly through the halls. His steps as quiet as they could be resulting from his anger….his worry.

Draco realized then he should not have pounded against the wall and given his position away, or with his wand lit for that matter, as he heard a thud in the distance. The panicked tilt of his mouth faded into the darkness. He stayed where he stood, not moving. His hands started to sweat.

This was not the astronomy tower, this was Zabini. That falsified friendship had left nothing but a bitter anger when he’d realized he wanted to protect Hermione from him.

The sudden rush of rage that washed through him gave him a single thought that he was sure of in that moment.

He would be able to kill for her. If things came to it.

_What? Where had that come from?_

He could practically hear his father cursing his son’s latent confidence regarding the matter.

Rolling his eyes in the darkness, he heard another thud, louder this time. Whatever it was that was causing it was approaching him. He gripped his wand tightly, raising it defiantly in front of him. It didn’t matter how much his head was screaming at him to flee, how much his palms sweat, he would defend himself. He would defend Hermione.

For the first time in his life, his fear was replaced with the smallest amount of courage.

\--

Waiting. Waiting.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

_Thud._

_…_

_Thud!_

And then it was right before him, the noise overwhelming his ears. All senses lost on him as the sound encompassed him and suddenly he wasn’t too sure about how long this courage would stay with him. He wondered for a moment if it would leave him, and he wouldn’t be able to protect her. Protect himself.

Forcing his eyes open, he was met with the end of a wand. Somewhere in the onslaught of the sound, he’d fallen—or had he been shoved—onto the stone hall. He raised his wand in answer and suddenly the sound stopped altogether.

The silence was pervading as the dark eyes of Blaise Zabini glinted above Draco.

“Zabini!” he spat. The darker man smirked in smug contempt as he looked down at him. He seemed thoughtful.

“I’m wondering if it’s worth it.”

“Worth what?”

“Killing you. In your own home.” Boredom laced his tone. “I’m imagining your blood traitor mother finding you. I doubt she’d be upset.”

His stomach turned and his heart frantically beat beneath his ribs. He would not back down. Not this time. Slowly, he stood. Zabini did nothing but watch, an amused tilt to his smirking lips.

Mustering more valor then he thought he had, he replied, “I’m wondering if it’s worth the look on Daphne’s face when she knows what you’ve done. How you’ve murdered.”

The smirk left his full lips and replaced it with a glare. “She learns nothing of this. Never.” Seems Zabini _did_ care for the blonde woman.

“She’ll find out. She’ll leave you, mate. And then all you’ll have is Astoria.”

He scoffed, seeming unsurprised Draco knew of her involvement. “Astoria is nothing to me. She just wants the mudblood out of the picture because she’s obsessed with you. Really, I thought you’d listened to me when I told you she was bloody insane.”

He allowed an amused grunt. “We both know I’m stubborn as hell. I don’t let go of what I want when I want it.”

“And that is your downfall, Draco,” Zabini sighed.

Draco said nothing.

Momentarily, Zabini’s gaze shifted and his wand arm slackened just barely. “You’re going to end up dying for her. For a mudblood that doesn’t deserve to live in our world.”

Draco glared harder. “Tell me you don’t really believe that still? That she isn’t worthy of her magic? We both know you scored lower than her in school, just as I did. Her magic kept her alive during the war. There’s a reason she’s famous, Zabini.”

He sneered.

“You just refuse to acknowledge it.”

And that’s when he snapped. “She is _nothing_! Her parents are muggles, they don’t deserve to live their inferior lives freely. They don’t have the right to shove us into the shadows when they don’t even have _magic_.”

Seems Zabini’s hatred ran a bit deeper than he thought. “You think muggleborn witches and wizards are keeping you in the darkness Blaise? It’s you that’s keeping yourself in the darkness. You refuse to move on from the past. Instead you live in it. You embrace it!”

“I live in the past because there’s nothing else as long as they have free run of our world! Magical children born from muggles are not truly magical—they don’t deserve to enjoy the mutation their inferior blood brings! Mudbloods are nothing, worth less than shit on the ground, their magic is weak.”

“You’re deluded, Blaise. I can’t believe I never realized—”

Zabini cast a _crucio_ and then Draco was sent to the floor again, writhing in agony as the pain erased everything. He felt as if he was on fire, every nerve ending set on high as the stabbing and pressing and ripping and stinging all combined to erupt within him as one singular, ultimate pain he could not escape. Knives dragged across his skin and he felt shameful drops of liquid roll down his cheeks.

Zabini must have cast a second silencing spell because Draco could not find the ability to scream. Could not speak. Not a sound came from him as his back arched and he gripped his head with both hands, his face flushed bright red. The tendons of his neck pulled tight. He rolled and an entirely different set of pain erupted over him. A second _crucio_ doubling and rolling seamlessly over the first. Nothing. Nothing could stop this pain. Nothing at all… His courage was lost. He could not stop this. He would die. And Hermione would die. He would fail. His mother would be left alone.

A single stretched moment of tearing, ripping, slashing across his eyes and it was gone all at once. The curse abruptly stopped as a flash a brilliant red light filled the hallway, illuminating Zabini’s surprised face, Draco’s wide and pained eyes, the portraits looking in the direction the spell had fired from.

Hermione’s green gown and bare feet entered his line of sight as she stepped in front of him. He was grateful he hadn’t yet slipped out of consciousness. Grateful he wasn’t dead. That she was here, alive.

Draco saw another flash, more red light, and then she was beside him, her frantic hands tilting his head up. His eyes found hers and he saw she didn’t have her mask on. She was tearing up, panic clear in her wide brown eyes as she cradled his head. Two arms surrounded him and he was pulled against her smaller frame, her chin pressed against his hair. He felt her shaking and the tiny pats of her tears on his hair. She was crying. And then something floated into his ears and realized he could hear again. She was saying something shakily. Again and again, and then he realized it was his name she was muttering.

“Granger…” He raised a numb hand and touched her side. His head ached as she wrenched it back and she peered at him, and then she was kissing him. Her lips in a frown and simply pressing against his because she couldn’t stop crying. _More crying._ He thought uselessly. He tasted the salt of her tears and he found the strength to move his lips against hers. Every moment he found he was becoming slightly more coherent. She stopped long enough to kiss him thoroughly, kissing for nothing else than they were alive and they _could_ kiss each other.

“Draco…are you, are you—” She could barely complete a sentence.

“Yeah. Zabini…” His head fell to the side when he tried to jerk it in Zabini’s direction. He couldn’t make him out in the darkness.

Hermione pulled her eyes from his face and stared into the darkness. She had sent him flying, another hit for good measure. He was probably knocked out cold.

She forced herself to swallow some of her panic, the immediacy of him dying no longer the top concern, because he was here in her arms, he was safe, he would live. She spoke in a choked whisper, “I should check to—”

Draco gripped her side as tightly as he could, he found the dizziness fading and he tried to raise himself to a sitting position. He barely managed. He said dangerously, “No. We have to leave.” They could fight Zabini another time. During the middle of a bright sunny day in a large open field preferably. Not in a dark, close hallway.

She pressed her forehead to his with a solemn nod and grabbed both his hands, cold as they were, and breathed. A moment later they were disapparating.


	18. Chapter 18

Hermione’s things clattered to the ground as she hauled Draco to his couch. She gave him a final concerned look, panic still obvious in her wide brown gaze, ran a hand across his cheek and then she was out of his line of sight. He could feel strength returning with each passion moment, invigorated by the sight of Hermione, the fact that she was alive and he was too. He smiled through a delirious haze, the pain ricocheting through his body in waves. But now that the curse was no longer being inflicted, there was a pleasant buzzing numbness moving through him, making his skin tingle with the promise of life. He liked this part. It meant he had more time.

He was reminded of how he’d taken care of her when she’d been cursed. He could hear her muttering to herself in worry, rushing back and forth throughout his flat between the bathroom and kitchen. She came back a few minutes later, using her wand to levitate half a dozen things about him. A cool cloth wiped across his face, he felt shaking hands practically rip off the buttons of his good dress shirt and then a second later the warmth of a spell used in healing. A glass of water pushed at his face but he nudged it away with his forehead. He didn’t want to drink anything.

Her voice wavered, but still held that bite he was so used to hearing from her. “Drink. You have to drink.”

Draco found her eyes for a moment and she seemed to catch herself staring and then refocused on his chest. She narrowed her eyes and set her mouth in a thin line.

“Granger, I don’t want any bloody water…” he croaked out. This time, he managed to wave the glass away with his hand. It relented finally and simply hovered a foot away.

She looked at him strangely. “You’re calling me Granger again?”

He rolled his eyes and said on a groan, “You’ll always be Granger to me, Hermione.” The cold cloth settled over his eyes and he was thankful he didn’t have to see her imploring look.

But he heard her huff in something that sounded like amusement. He didn’t know. He didn’t honestly care right now. His head was pounding and the cloth did only so much to soothe it. His teeth ached. He felt like he was falling apart.

So he focused on her warm hands on his chest. They moved every now and again, and he figured she was searching for internal damage. He never did learn many healing spells, at least nothing that was even remotely useful for situations like this. He wished for a moment he’d known to do this when she was the one who was cursed.

His eyes shot open as her hands traveled downward slowly, settling finally on his lower stomach. The cloth over his eyes covered his reaction, and he refused to let any sort of emotion pass over his mouth so she wouldn’t see. He felt no change in her movements, so she didn’t know.

He could have hit himself for his inappropriate reaction in such a situation, but he couldn’t quite stop his thoughts drifting to other places that had no business being thought when he was laying immobile from the _Cruciatus_ and Hermione was healing him of all things.

“That’s okay with me.”

This time he couldn’t stop from jerking his head forward, the cloth falling limply to his chest. She looked at him bemusedly, interrupting her concern for a moment. “I mean calling me Granger. I knew it wouldn’t last too long. Besides, it was stupid of me to relate something like you calling me Granger back to _him_.”

“Pansy called me Malfoy for years before she finally quit it,” he managed in reply, letting his head fall back against his soft couch.

This time he felt her hands resonate the small amount of laughter from her. “I think that’s a little different.”

Something told him not to drop it. “I mean I get it is all.”

She was quiet, “Hm.”

It was silent with more than just lack of conversation. There was now an unnecessary tension between them. He rolled his eyes at himself. Suddenly the water was back to poking him in the temple and his anger only amounted. Where this rage suddenly came from he hadn’t a clue, but he felt like being angry, so he was. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was that mention of the Weasel, he really didn’t know.

He tried to sit up, ignoring the pain in his gut and the pressure of Hermione’s hands on his stomach which quickly moved to his chest when he wouldn’t stop. She tried pushing him back down gently, which he wasn’t having, and that insufferable glass of water kept _fucking prodding at his head_.

Narrowing his eyes, he willed movement past the pain, ignoring the spasms rocking through him, as he raised a hand and violently flung the glass away from him, simultaneously colliding with her arm as she went to do the same thing. The glass smashed to the floor, wetting the carpet and table and part of Hermione, her arm hanging in the air in mid-swing where Draco had interrupted its path. She quirked a brow at him and looked down at herself in something like disbelief, and then she was looking at him again. The abrupt anger in him had fled at that single moment of contact and was replaced with wide eyes and a pursed mouth.

And then he was laughing. She glared and said, “Well, if you’re well enough recovered to _throw water_ and _laugh,_ then I guess you’re well enough to clean it up too!” She stood and walked briskly to her room. Distantly, he heard her door shut loudly. He knew she wasn’t hurt, she was just angry she got all wet. Just like that silly pet from her school days, he mused.

But honestly, he felt like absolute shit and couldn’t stop laughing because if he did, he would start coughing. Which was now coming on with a vengeance. He sat up and swung his legs over the side in one quick jerk, ignoring his dizziness and the waves of pain. He exhaled harshly and with more willpower than he remembered having, stood up in a single push. He doubled over a little as he hobbled to her room but he managed.

Draco knocked a single time and gripped the knob. She yelled something at him but he didn’t catch it so he turned the handle and was greeted with a rather pleasant sight. She was standing in baggy pajama bottoms and her bra, her arms arched over her head with a T-shirt over them obviously getting changed. Quite surprisingly she glared instead of screeched at him and finished pulling the shirt over her head. A quick tug at her hair and her superb mess of curls fell around her shoulders. Belatedly, he noticed she had already washed the makeup off.

“Looks like I healed you well,” she said snarkily.

He narrowed his eyes again, not really understanding her. “Not exactly.”

She stepped until she was right before him, crossed her arms. “You’re standing aren’t you.”

He frowned. Her smirk was one to rival his own, but soon it faltered, and she could no longer fight off the concern in her expression. “You shouldn’t be moving around at all, Draco.”

“Well you didn’t find anything broken did you?”

She lowered her eyes. “No. But you still shouldn’t be moving around.”

He looked over her shoulder and eyed the green silk gown lying folded over her armoire. “The silk will be fine.” He nodded towards it at her questioning look.

She rolled her eyes. “Like I care about a bloody gown. You almost died.”

Her hands found his and he was a little surprised when she went so far as to lace their fingers together, which he returned readily. Greedy for her touch.

“I’m alive, Hermione,” he assured her. Lowering his head to hers he was delighted with the shiver he received as he whispered against the skin of her neck, “Because of you.”

She elicited an indistinguishable sound of pleasure and surprise when he pressed his lips to her neck, kissing her. One hand left hers to find the base of her neck and tangle it in her curls and _Merlin_ she smelled good. He inhaled deeply and then simply let his head rest in the crook of her neck, happy to find she wasn’t pushing him away for once.

The gentle presence of her hand on his neck brought him out of his trance to meet her eyes. Her skin was slightly flushed and her eyes held a sudden frailty he hadn’t yet seen in them. She looked vulnerable.

It took her a long time to speak, and when she did it was heavy with want, “Draco…”

And then he was kissing her as he had wanted to do properly since he could remember. Since that very first night when this unnamed tension was born between them. The night she told him to call her Hermione.

And tonight, he knew, things would again change.

\--

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew this wasn’t right. To be kissing Draco, who had a glorious talent for it, while he was still severely injured. She knew he should be lying down and resting, recovering, just as she had been allowed to do. Though when his tongue licked at her bottom lip and _bit_ , she found it hard to believe that he was barely moving not even an hour ago.

But still, she managed to drag in a heavy breath before their tongues met. The hand on his neck squeezed softly and he pulled back just enough to give her the most smoldering look she’d encountered. Fighting against the blush that was surely crossing her cheeks, she said, “Draco. You should be lying down and _sleeping_.”

A devious tilt of his lips, “Oh, I intend to do just that. But I still have yet to keep to my earlier promise.”

_“You’ll certainly be entertained, but I won’t be calling you MacDougal.”_

Her heart seemed to charge with the look he gave her and then he was kissing her, this time pressing her to him tightly. She gave a small sound of surprise, which induced from him a shuttered breath against her heated lips. That small sound from him did her in and she figured if he was well enough to do _this_ then she wouldn’t stop him. She’d be careful, of course, and stop him if he seemed in pain.

But Draco seemed set on touching every inch of her, small, desperate little sounds coming out of him the tighter she held him in return.

And Hermione was just about sick of denying herself what she’d wanted to do ever since she’d pushed him away that night in his kitchen. After what happened tonight at the manor, it was useless pushing him away.

She was done refusing to acknowledge just how deeply their lives had become intertwined.

Her hands gripped his hair and pulled as he pushed against her, making her sigh against his mouth. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue in, the sensation making heat pool in the pit of her stomach. He moved against her again, this time his hands grasping her hips firmly.

His mouth left hers to find her neck, eager to make use of that tender spot he’d discovered earlier. He kissed along her jawline, resting hotly over her neck and he bit in a tease that had her pulsing. She arched into him as he did it, trying to press herself closer to him, to feel all of him against her. He made a dark noise and then she was pressed against the wall tightly. His larger frame engulfed her, and she could only place her hands at the hem of his half open dress shirt as he sucked languidly along her neck and collarbone. She snaked her hands under his hem to warm skin and a heated hiss from him. Deciding she didn’t much like his shirt right then, she yanked it the rest of the way off. He shrugged it to the floor and pressed into her again, his hands finding her thighs and lifting them around him. She rose several inches, finding her eyes level with his own. They were stormy with the look she’d come to call familiar.

Her hands found his face, cupping his jaw as they simply held gazes, silence and heavy breaths passing between them. Slowly, she lowered her lips to his in a testing sort of kiss that he returned just as gently. It felt like everything in that moment. He made a choked sound and rolled his hips into her. From there it intensified quickly, the heat rising between them again. His grip on her thighs tensed as she moaned into his mouth. She needed more _now_. Her hands went to her own shirt and she felt him laugh against her lips as he pulled back just long enough to let her throw it somewhere behind them.

Their lips met again and he slowly released his bruising hold on her thighs, lowering her to the floor. She was slightly disappointed but then he was kissing his way down her throat once more, his hands finding the straps of her bra as she smiled a little as he fumbled. He slipped one strap down and kissed along her shoulder as the other hand snaked around to her back and undid the clasp. She let it fall to their feet, the barriers of clothing falling away one by one. He didn’t take his eyes away from hers as he stepped closer, hands ghosting along her naked sides, the curve of her breasts until he was cupping them. She closed her eyes at the feeling, smiling again when he kissed her.

His hands brushed her nipples and almost massaged her until she was arching into the touch. His mouth suddenly changed course, leaving her mouth and trailing down over her collarbones. As he kissed down over her breasts, he began to move them both away from the wall. Just when she expected the heat of his mouth against her, he was lifting her up by her thighs and then lowering her softly to her own bed in just a few short steps. She smirked at his action and pulled his face down to hers but frowned when he pulled away.

She only received an arched brow in response to her eagerness, but she let her head fall back against the sheets as he continued whatever plan he was hatching. He took his time, something she was pleasantly surprised and equally frustrated about. He kissed along every inch of her skin stopping just along the edge of her pajama bottoms before kissing his way back up. This time she watched him as he kissed along her chest, his blond hair tickling her sensitized skin. Her hands wove into his hair as he sucked on a nipple. She made a soft sound as he pulled with his teeth in a quick bite, her hips trying to meet his, something, anything. His mouth found hers, kissing her with a smile. Her hands moved to the small of his back, feeling the heat of his skin and thought hers felt much the same from the things he was doing to her.

“Hermione.” The whisper startled her for a moment, she had been so lost in the feeling of his hands, his mouth on her. When he pulled back to meet her somewhat shocked expression, he mistook it as misgivings about all this. There was a worry in his eyes, and she felt her heart wobble at the look.

Her hands found his face much the same as they had earlier, and she nodded at him, hoping that her eyes conveyed the fierce conviction that she wanted this. Just as much as he did. A moment more of this and he seemed satisfied for he was kissing her again. She smiled into it.

She felt Draco move away for a moment as he sat up just enough to grasp the waistband of her pants, swiftly removing them. Her hands pulled on his own, and he made quick work of the button, lying to the side of her to kick them off rather funnily. She rolled over as soon as he was rid of them and went to throw her leg over his to straddle him, but he overpowered her and rolled on top of her, a knee between her thighs. He smirked down at her as he moved his other leg between hers, gently spreading her thighs, settling against her to rock his hips into her. Both groaned at the contact, but it wasn’t enough. They’d been craving this for so long.

With some agile maneuvering she wasn’t too concerned with keeping track of, they were finally completely open to one another. Their eyes met as he hovered over her, sliding easily along her center. He watched as her eyes closed briefly at the sensation and then he carefully thrust inside her in one slow motion. He moaned into her skin as she cried out loudly, her nails digging into her shoulders. But neither quite cared as he began to move inside her, rolling his hips heavily as he drew out every thrust to its fullest, as deep as possible. Clothes lay forgotten as they moved together, meeting thrust for thrust, kiss for kiss.

“Please, please Draco—” she was babbling, too consumed by the fire roaring through her as he grasped and moaned against her. Soon enough, with a final shaky breath, she felt the tense coil snap from within her, her legs tight around him, urging him on. He breathed out her name. After another thrust, he lowered himself to kiss her, his own release following with gripping fingers. He pressed his forehead against hers. She moved her hands to the base of his neck, feeling the soft hair there.

Their lips met tenderly once before Draco moved, resting on his side beside her. Hermione turned to him and smiled when she saw his easy grin. Everything was different now.

And from the way he was looking at her, she knew that _different_ was something they both needed.

Draco grabbed her hand and squeezed.

\--

In the morning she woke to a hushed peace. As soon as she was conscious she was aware of three things; that Draco needed a check up on the curse, that last night had been _spectacular_ , and that the arm draped over her shoulder and under her waist told her that Draco was still sleeping.

Hermione smiled at the sight that greeted her. His blond hair was mussed, going in every possible direction, and she knew that if he was aware of it he’d smooth it back in a second. She snuggled closer, enjoying the way his arms tightened around her a little even in sleep. She noted his lips tilted in a small smirk when she pressed her lips against his chest.

“I awake to find you sexually harassing me? I never knew you’d be so kinky.” But he drew her closer as he muttered it, smiling into her hair. She rolled her eyes at his remark, but laughed despite herself.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

More laughter. “I would have thought last night was proof enough that I’m alright, Hermione.”

Although she was pleased to know he hadn’t reverted back to calling her Granger like he’d said, her concern for him took precedence. She tilted her head back to meet his eyes, but he only held her closer.

Usually she would have bristled at the comment, but she was in agreeance with him, “It _was_ …” She could practically hear the smirk in his mischievous chuckle. “But you were cursed badly Draco.” Here, she pulled out of his embrace and shifted to where she was a little higher than him on the pillows. His grey eyes were softer than she’d remembered them ever being. And his gaze was…peaceful. Happy. Her heart thrummed blissfully at the sight.

His voice was soft as he said, “Not as badly as that day in your flat. I’m fine, honestly.”

She touched his face, stroked her thumb over his cheek. “I guess Astoria has a bit of a mean streak within her doesn’t she?” Fully knowing that day was only amplified by the other witch’s jealousy. Even though at the time, there wasn’t really anything to be jealous of. “And then there’s the Polyjuice…” Her thoughts were quickly souring, and he noticed.

Draco covered her hand with his own, gave her an intense look that promised _many_ things, and reached up to pull her in for a good morning kiss. “All that can wait, today you’re _mine_.”

At the wicked curve of his mouth, she forgot their troubles easily.

\--

“How’s living with Draco going?” Ginny asked suggestively through the phone. Hermione blushed at the very vivid memories of last night and this morning. Ginny had called just a few minutes prior.

It was well into the afternoon now, and both had called in to work because not only did Hermione make him take a day off to rest, but both had _other_ things worth doing. And besides, the repetitive requests for time off were easier because of the case. Not that she’d ever abuse it. Though she knew Draco was happy to with the newest development in their relationship.

Harry understood that work needed to be done outside of the Ministry for the case. That’s how Draco was able to take extended ‘lunch breaks’ to repeatedly trail Blaise. Now that they knew who the killers were, it was going to be a lot easier. But they still needed proof.

She was currently stirring the Polyjuice brew, standing in just her pajamas that she’d only recently bothered putting on. Draco had only just managed his way into the shower and was taking his time. He was still sore, she knew, and as soon as he dried off she would make him lie down and sleep the rest of the day.

She hadn’t told Harry what happened yet. Neither had Draco. Honestly, she didn’t know if he’d take it as an excuse to go in wands blazing and confront Blaise directly, or worse, get Ron to do it.

She still needed to sort things out with him. The sadness was gone from what happened between them, and so was most of the anger. Now all that remained was tired disappointment. And still some anger. She glared before she realized it and shook it off, focusing back on Ginny’s question.

“It’s great actually. Definitely not as awkward as I’d originally expected.”

She heard Ginny’s snicker. “Oh, I’m sure you two are _well_ past the awkward stages.”

Hermione smiled, not bothering to hide the amusement in her voice, “Way past it actually.”

She didn’t expect Ginny’s excited shriek. “I knew it! I knew it from the first time I saw him look at you!”

“What?” she asked, amused but not understanding.

Ginny scoffed. “The day when Harry and I announced our pregnancy, I saw how he looked at you.” Hermione immediately thought of that single look he sometimes gave her. The one they’d shared last night. She’d never been looked at that way by anyone else. Certainly no one else had seen that from him, right?

“What are you talking about Ginny? What look?”

She could practically feel her frustration through the phone. “Merlin, Hermione! He absolutely adores you!”

Heat crawled up to her hairline and she stirred a bit more erratically. “I was a crying mess, he was probably disgusted with it.” Though she knew it wasn’t true. That was the start of it all.

“Yeah, yeah, deny it all you want. But refusing what’s in front of you won’t get you anywhere. Do you know how long it took me to convince Harry he wanted to marry me?”

Her words reverberated through her for the truth that they were. “Trust me, I’m through refusing anything.” She paused, then sighed thinking about her encounter with Narcissa. “And I hardly think marriage is on the table right now, Gin. Though Narcissa seems to be on the same page as you—”

“What? Hermione! What happened? I know you’re not telling me everything, Herm—”

“Ginny, calm down! Everything’s great! Don’t worry about—”

Two hands settled on her waist as Draco stepped up to her from behind. He kissed her neck and bent his head to hear Ginny on the phone. Her eyes widened and she hurried out a good bye before hanging up.

“Oh? Gossiping isn’t any good,” he said, giving her a smirk that told her he’d heard everything.

“Not gossiping. And you should be lying down.” She amended, continuing to stir.

His kisses trailed pleasantly along her neck and jaw. “Only if you’ll lay with me.”

She smiled at his words. “I have to make sure the brew is ready before tomorrow.”

“That quick?” he said, surprised. He looked over into the brew and frowned at the smell.

“I told you it would be ready in a couple days. Tomorrow morning it should be finished.”

“No wonder you always scored higher in potions…and everything else.”

“Well, brewing it when you’re twelve always helps as extra practice.”

He murmured something unintelligible against her neck and she turned in question, but was met with his lips on her own. She ceased stirring and turned to meet him, but broke the kiss before it became too heated to ignore.

“Come on, I’ll stir out there and we can watch some television. That way you’ll be resting and I can finish this up.”

“Always the clever one.” She elbowed him mid chuckle, dodging his kisses.


	19. Chapter 19

Hermione knew from the moment she accepted the fact that she truly was attracted to Draco Malfoy, that the second that line was crossed, everything would be different. She knew her heart would never be able to go back to how it had been before that line had been crossed. It had been the same with Ron, and she could only hope that this new relationship wouldn’t fizzle out and sour what strange friendship they’d forged the last few months.

Though the dynamics of their behavior hadn’t exactly changed much. They still argued like fire and she still found herself invariably frustrated by him, but this time those arguments ended in passionate embraces and whispered names instead of tense silences and hot glares from across rooms.

She’d had plenty of time to observe the minute changes between them resulting from their newfound intimacy due to the fact there had been an extra couple days they’d had to lie about his flat.

The potion was ready.

Theo would be filing away just as he always was at this time of day.

Blaise was surely in an uproar but couldn’t afford to let his job slip. He had his public image to keep up, even if two of his coworkers knew his true intentions.

She couldn’t care less about Astoria at this point, she was a pawn in Zabini’s schemes.

But the cause for their delay in enacting their plan was the fact that Ginny had let slip to Harry about the new development of their relationship, to which Harry was skeptical and called to ask how Hermione was doing living with him. Though of course his real purpose in calling was to confirm Ginny’s suspicions. Harry was never very mysterious when it came to his curiosity.

So, Hermione had been forced to relent and simply hum in confirmation to which he had blanched over the phone at her. She had ignored his confused shouting and asked if he’d found anything on his end regarding the case. And he had inevitably badgered out of her what had happened at the ball.

In the end, Harry had barred them from returning to work for a few days. He wanted everything to calm down and observe the situation at work before they came back. No one knew how Blaise would react if he saw them there.

Her assumptions were correct when Harry told her that Blaise was acting his part perfectly. But he advised them to come to work under Polyjuice just in case, that if they needed extra, he could stop by after work and deliver some.

But Hermione had made enough for an extra few cups specifically for any bumps in the road, like this.

Draco wasn’t even that upset, he understood the risk and had begrudgingly agreed with Harry’s reasoning. A few minor changes to the plan had to be made though, but it was nothing in the long run. This Friday they’d finally carry out their plan and hopefully they’d gain substantial evidence to use against Blaise.

And then it would all be over.

And things would go back to normal.

But a new thought occurred to her in her reverie, what would normal be once Draco and she were no longer required to live together?

It was a thought she pushed away for later. If she knew one thing about herself, it was that she could overanalyze a simple thing. Hermione believed she’d know what to do when the time came.

\--

Harry was sitting quietly at his desk debating over whether to floo his wife or owl her. Just as he was about to choose the prior, Ron walked in without knocking. He looked determined to say something, and Harry could barely get a greeting out before his friend was hurtling words at him.

The door barely shut before he began, “Harry, I want to know why she hasn’t been here all week!”

Sighing, he leaned forward. “Ron, I told you, she’s with Malfoy.”

“That bloody git, that…Nevermind, I didn’t come here for that!” He glared at the floor, shut his eyes tightly and stood for a moment breathing deeply. Harry realized he was trying to calm himself, and he was grateful for it. With what he’d learned about Hermione and Malfoy…he really didn’t want to deal with Ron blowing his top over nothing today.

“Ron?” he began gently, “What do you need?”

“I just came to give you these.” Ron dropped a thick manila folder on his desk. It was for a minor case he’d been assigned to on the side. Harry thanked him and gestured for him to sit down.

After a moment Ron did sit, sinking into the leather of the chair with visible fatigue. He looked like hell, and Harry guessed he still hadn’t made peace with Hermione. After a long moment taken to observe him, Harry asked, “Have you spoken to Hermione?”

He squinted an eye open at him, glaring. “Hell, you know I haven’t.”

“You really should if you want anything to be like it was, Ron. You can’t just sit back and think everything will go back to normal by itself.”

Grudgingly, he muttered, “ _Normal_ would be us after the war, Hermione in my arms, the three of us still hating the ferret with all we had. Not _this_.” He waved a hand in the air and Harry sighed again.

“This is reality now, Ron. You have to fix things. _You_ , not her, not me, not even bloody Malfoy, but _you_. You’ve seen how hard Hermione’s tried to fix things between you two, trying to repair that friendship you had, when you actually try to talk to her instead of yelling.” He paused at the betrayed look on his friend’s face. “And we were all affected, not just you and your pride.” The look on Ron’s face was priceless then but Harry knew it needed to be said. Maybe Malfoy had been right, maybe she needed someone else to step in and end this nonsense.

Ron glared at the far wall for a few seconds before he went off on a tangent and said hopelessly, “You’ve heard the rumors about the two of them, haven’t you Harry? You know what they’re all saying, the lot of them.”

The rumors. Yes, he’d heard the rumors. But what he’d learned earlier had given him pause on the matter. “Well, maybe it’s not such a bad thing?”

Ron looked incredulous. “What the hell Harry? How could you say such a thing!”

“Is it really that hard to believe? I mean, it’s a time of crisis for her, and Malfoy is _there_ for her when we can’t be. Not all the time. And you know you’ve not been there at _all_ because of your little internal feud.”

“A time of crisis? _Crisis_?” he squeaked.

“Remember how you two first kissed?” He was quiet at that. Harry continued, knowing his point was made, “You once told me, it was a time of crisis where at any moment one of you could have died. Tell me, Ron, how is this situation any different for them?” He found himself protecting the idea of Hermione and Dra—Malfoy together and he didn’t feel bad about it. He felt that she deserved her happiness and if Malfoy of _all_ people was the one to do that, then that was alright. Ron just needed to understand that. Even if it took time, like it naturally would for all of them. (Though when Ginny had told him, she’d been bursting at the seams with excitement.)

If Harry could get over the hump of his own issues he had with Malfoy, then Ron could do it too.

Typically, “It’s not right. They’re not right. He isn’t right for her.”

“Who are you to say that? What right do you have to have any say whatsoever in her life or her happiness anymore?”

He groaned in frustration and stood angrily, practically shouting, “Do you hear yourself right now? How can you say that?”

Standing as well and looking him dead in the eye, Harry scoffed, “You know better than anyone how little you’ve had to do with her the last year. You ignore her and then get pissed off when she moves on?”

Ron grimaced, “It’s not like that, Harry, I just—”

“No! That’s exactly what it is—you’re being a hypocrite! You need to sit down with her and talk like a civilized person and _listen_ to her Ron. You need to make peace with whatever demons you still have. And stop treating our oldest friend like absolute shite.”

Ron stood there gripping the doorknob with such fury his ears started turning red. Harry knew Ron was finally absorbing his words for once and would hopefully listen to what he’d said. Maybe now everything would move in the right direction.

“Crisis or not, it’ll never be right,” Ron muttered after a long moment.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Harry stood at a loss for words in the middle of his office, alone and grim of the days ahead.

\--

Blaise was in the midst of sorting paperwork when he was made aware of a presence outside his door. A knock and he stood to open it when it opened anyway, a flash of yellow and then his girlfriend Daphne Greengrass was before him, shutting the door behind her.

He was annoyed that she would just show up like this, in his office of all places. If Malfoy or the mudblood showed up at work suddenly then he’d miss his chance to make any sort of move because of this bint. No, no, not bint…Merlin how did things get so complicated.

Inwardly cringing at the way she crinkled her nose before she spoke, he waited with baited breath to hear what she was about to say. She was quiet, but reprimanding all the same. “What is Astoria doing at my house?”

The sisters had had a sort of falling out with one another after he’d started dating Daphne. After realizing that Draco had been serious about dumping her, she’d gone to him and latched on to his namesake wealth. Blaise couldn’t stand the girl but Daphne never saw that. Over the past few weeks, her paranoia had amounted, and he feared she was growing suspicious of what her boyfriend and sister were involved in.

Though he doubted she’d ever guess what they were _really_ up to. Trying to off Granger was much different than _cheating_ on her. But even though Daphne had always maintained the appearance of being a dimwitted gossip, she truly was clever when it came to snooping around. And if she was looking for something, she’d certainly find it.

And he couldn’t have that.

So this surprise visit from her sister, who she was currently not speaking to, was only fueling her paranoia. And he’d made it clear to Astoria before the ball that he was through working with her. It just wasn’t worth it. But what if Astoria had told Daphne something? His head throbbed just thinking about it.

“Blaise?” she pushed, questioning.

“I don’t know. Didn’t you ask her? She’s your sister.”

She rolled her eyes, “She told me some nonsense about Malfoy, but she’s always prattling on about _him_. Seeing as you two are involved in whatever work is demanding of you at the moment, I figured you’d know.” She raised a brow, obviously suggesting something.

He scowled, “I broke off the partnership; it wasn’t benefiting the case. And what exactly did she say about Malfoy?”

Despite the narrowing of her eyes, he could tell she was relieved by his words, and she answered readily, “Just some senseless gossip about him and Granger. Honestly, I just blocked it out seeing as how she wouldn’t shut up about it. Honestly, that girl makes me want to tear my hair out sometimes.”

Hoping he sounded calm, he told her, “Yeah, there _are_ rumors circulating around work about them. Any new ones I should know about?” He threw in a light laugh at the end and even though it sounded foreign to him, Daphne didn’t seem to notice it.

She shifted her weight and went to lean against his door, her hands tucked behind her. “She’s still jealous of Granger. That’s for certain.” She snorted, “Went on and on about how Malfoy would take her back in a second if, and this is her own words, _‘if the mudblood were dead’_. There was alcohol on her breath, and you know how I don’t like to use that word. I think it’s utter bollocks Malfoy would ever bother with the likes of a muggleborn, but Astoria just can’t seem to grasp that.” She frowned sadly. “Really, all those years of blood superiority you think she’d be confident enough not to lose her spot to a girl like… _that_.”

Blaise heard her words but was in another place. He felt a spike of fear when he usually felt so calm and put together. He wasn’t a man to be afraid of something, and he vowed to never feel viable fear again after what he went through with the bloody war all those years ago. Astoria and he needed to discuss some things. The thought of her even breathing a word of their little side project made him livid with a rage he thought was solely reserved for the mudblood and her mudblood loving Malfoy pet. Now that Astoria was talking, he’d have to handle her too.

Truthfully, he enjoyed the prospect almost as much as he enjoyed the prospect of seeing Malfoy’s face as he took the life of his little mudblood project in front of him.

Distantly, he was brought back to the moment when Daphne threw her arms around him and was _crying_ of all things. He placed stiff hands at her sides and held her as she cried for whatever reason that was beyond him. Like it mattered anyway.

Greengrass women, he thought with a snort.

\--

In reality it had only been a couple of weeks since she’d last set foot into her old home. But so much had happened since then that she could barely comprehend that it hadn’t even been a full month yet. As she stood in her old living room, looking down at the spot where she’d been lying motionless and convulsing only weeks before, she felt a strange sense of overwhelming accomplishment. It was a nice feeling.

Hermione looked at her couch and noticed it was doing just as fine as it always had. As she walked by it she remembered how Draco had gotten her the wrong blanket and a glass of water so long ago. Trailing her knuckles over the soft fabric, her skin razed in chills as she passed into her old bedroom.

It looked as if it had never been touched, let alone invaded and destroyed. It was just as Draco and she had left it the day before leaving for his flat. Her furniture and personal belongings had all been transferred over to his place and it felt foreign to be standing in this room now. She did miss her simple closet though, the double door wood paneling. Draco had given her room a much too large closet. She peeled open the doors, more panels than anything else, and stared into darkness.

She’d come here to say goodbye. To let go of the awful things that had happened here and move on. She’d planned on doing it ever since the events at the manor. The _recent_ events. And she figured that if she could get over the past events and move on with her life, she could move past this too, and what better time to start than now? So she’d come here planning on settling her mind and all her loose end thoughts that had been bothering her for the past few weeks. Now that she was here, she knew it was the right decision to make.

Sighing, she turned and stopped suddenly when she felt her pocket warm with the telltale sign of Draco needing her for whatever reason. Panicking, she instantly forgot what she had come here to do and apparated on the spot.

She popped into the middle of his living room and came upon the sight of Ron and him fighting. Well, the remnants of what looked to have been a fight. Ron was sitting on the floor, deflated posture and bleeding from his nose slightly. Draco was leaning back against the column of his kitchen partition with a wild look in his eyes. As Ron looked her way, his eyes widening even more than they already were, she realized his eyes held the same chaotic look.

Not one to usually curse, she bellowed, “What the _fuck_ is this?”

Draco laughed outright and Ron looked so taken aback, she thought he’d have fallen back if he could have any farther. From a cursory glance she knew they were both alright and would live, so she could afford her anger. But the amount of it had fizzled as suddenly as it had come, leaving behind a dull sort of sadness that had become normal in the presence of Ron.

He didn’t comment on the way she went to Draco before him.

She saw the start of bruising on his lip and eye, the crook of his nose and slack jaw and assumed Ron had thrown a nasty punch at him. Possibly had gotten a second or even third one in. Draco’s eyes never left her face as she busied herself with healing him as best she knew how. The only time Ron ever made a noise was a snort of prideful amusement as she set Draco’s broken nose with a loud snap accompanied by a short groan of pain.

She didn’t shy away from the hand he rested at her hip. And she didn’t give a damn if Ron saw it either.

She saw the thanks in Draco’s eyes and knew it for what it was when he managed a small smirk. She turned then and didn’t miss how Ron’s green eyes had glazed over somewhat, as if he was deep in thought. Absently, he wiped at a trail of blood that anchored over his lower lip. He scratched at the spot and left a significant smudge of red there. She went to him and, despite their rough history, knelt beside him and began muttering healing spells much the same as she had with Draco.

His eyes snapped to hers as she asked him, “How did you know where we lived?”

He looked betrayed. “ _’We’_?”

Hermione glared as the blood was cleaned away with a quick _scourgify_ , “Yes _we_ because I’m staying here now. What the hell were you two doing fighting?”

“He came at—”

“You know,” she said, cutting him off, “I don’t even want to hear it. I’m sick of this.” She finished with her spells and stood. She was watching him, “I think you should leave.”

“I really fucking agree,” interjected Draco from where he still sat. She ignored him, knowing that he would never be friendly with Ron. And that Ron would likely never be friendly with him. Ron revoked _their_ friendship, so why would he even be here in the first place?

Ron stood as well but didn’t make to leave. He looked expectant, but she certainly wasn’t going to start talking before he did. And if he didn’t, that was fine too.

Hesitantly, rushing the words out, “I came here to talk. Well…to…listen I guess. I dunno….” She realized he was expectant of himself….hmm, perhaps Harry had spoken to him. Oh no—

She cast a wary look at Draco and then back at Ron, who was looking awkwardly at the floor, suddenly seeming very small and she knew. She knew he _knew_.

“Ron you…?” she trailed off not knowing how to possibly end that sentence. And she was hardly ever at a loss for words.

He looked surprised. “So, so the rumors really _are_ true? Fucking hell!” he swore. She heard Draco move behind her, but he didn’t approach the two of them. Probably staying wary of second round of fighting.

“Draco?” she asked, knowing he was listening even though he didn’t respond. “I’m going to go with Ron and hear what he has to say.”

There was fervor in his voice as he started to argue, “Granger, I don’t think that’s—”

She turned around and smiled slightly at him, and he grew quiet though the narrowing of his eyes told her exactly what he thought of the idea. “We’ll go to the park by my old muggle school, there won’t be anyone following me there. And we have the wands, so don’t worry.”

He shrugged off the wall and turned, his voice agitated, “Fine, do whatever the fucking Weasel wants.” He stalked off and disappeared around the corner down the hall. She sighed to herself, deciding that this was the best possible outcome of such a situation. And if he hadn’t needed her help or at least thought it wasn’t of her concern, then he wouldn’t have called her using the charmed wands in the first place.

Ignoring whatever Ron was starting to say beside her, she gripped his wrist a little too forcefully and turned on her heel, taking him with her as she apparated to the spot she had in mind.

\--

Ron stumbled a bit when she released him immediately after arriving. She felt the beginnings of a small smile at the sight of her old elementary school, the small playground fenced off a ways from the bench she was heading for. Ron followed dumbly behind.

Hermione sat and crossed her legs, her hands atop her knees. He sat at the opposite end and wasn’t surprised when she felt relief that he hadn’t sat any closer.

She watched the children play on their colorful structures and laugh, waiting for Ron to begin whatever he had come to say.

It was a long time before he spoke, and when she looked at him he was watching her. He turned away sharply and bit his lip, frowning intensely. She frowned with him.

“Things are shit between us, ‘Mione— um, Hermio—Granger.” He stumbled over what to call her and it made her frown deepen, but she didn’t correct him. He had every right to stumble, it was his own doing.

“What I said to you at Harry and Ginny’s place, it was awful of me. And you know I always regret what I say in anger right after I say it.”

Oh she remembered. “That which is said in anger is not anything at all,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

But he’d heard, “Exactly! And I’m sorry for what I said, I truly am. I was angry that day…I was angry today. You know my anger is my downfall.”

She hadn’t originally planned on speaking, only on listening, but she found herself replying against her will, “You’ve always been a passionate person.”

Even though it was obvious from her tone that it was said in scorn, he sounded a touch more hopeful than before, “So you understand what I’m getting at?”

She groaned, “No! I don’t understand. And just for the record, what is said in anger can be true enough. You know that’s why I broke up with you. I told you what I think of us, and you know I’ve moved on now, so you go to Draco’s flat to what? Kill him? Get me back?” Ron was shaking his head. “You need to stop this incessant stalking of me and him!”

“Stalking?” Ron managed a hoarse laugh. “I’m not stalking you two!”

She scoffed. “Please, we’ve both seen you perched outside my office. Your office isn’t even close to mine.”

He seemed to mutter something to himself and then he was looking away, red-eared and obviously knowing he was caught.

“What was that?” she asked.

“I said I wasn’t waiting out there for you or _him_.” He scoffed the word. “Well it was part of it, but not the whole thing I just…I…Dammit, Hermione I was waiting for someone else.”

“Someone else?” And then it dawned on her. “You were pulling the watercooler stunt?”

His silence was answer enough and she fought down the laughter. It was too ridiculous. But it was still stalking. “It’s still harassing myself and Draco and I need you to stop. Go have your little meetings somewhere else. Whoever she is, just because her office is near mine doesn’t mean you have to wait outside like it’s breaks between classes at Hogwarts.”

Defensive, he huffed. “It wasn’t just those things, I’m not some freak stalker, and you know that.” He mumbled the last part, “It was a good place to hear any rumors, you know?”

“The rumors about me and Draco?”

“Merlin, will you stop saying his name like that?” Ron grimaced.

“That’s his name and I will say it when I am referring to him, Ron. Well, why did you feel the need to concern yourself with the rumors? You were never a gossip.”

His ears were on fire. “Yeah, I know I just…I needed some type of confirmation.”

“For what?”

It was as if those two words had opened a flood gate within him. “Originally the idea of you two together disgusted me, and it still does.” She narrowed her eyes at him and he hurried on. “But rumors like that usually burn out but they _didn’t_ , so I was watching to see if they held any truth. I never had any proof, not really…Not until Harry told me today, but you know that, I guess. Um, it’s just that the more I thought of you two together, and seeing him go into your office all the time, it was like something just clicked inside me. I still love you Hermione, don’t give me that look, I’m not done. I still love you, but I don’t think it’s like _that_ anymore. At least I’m pretty sure it’s not. And then Rose and I started talking again…it was just a rush of events you know?”

She let out a bark of laughter which sounded too cruel even to her own ears. “I know it better than you do.

“And like Harry told me this morning, it’s a time of crisis for you and I can understand where you’re coming from having feelings for him.” It was hard for him to say the words, “Like it had been a time of crisis for _us_ back then…but then the danger wore off and we grew apart too.”

“We had rushed into it Ron, and it wasn’t right. And it’s wrong to say I’m with Draco for the same reasons. It’s a time of crisis yes, but there’s more there—between the two of us. It’s different then—”

“Then how it was with me?” he offered quietly.

Hermione met his eyes. He didn’t seem angry now. Just deflated. “Yes.”

The look he gave her was as if he had just won some bet with himself. “I’m not saying to take me back. I’m not asking for that anymore. I realize that you’ve moved on and it would be wrong to ask to have anything other than friendship back between us Hermione.”

“I completely agree.” She felt relieved he’d seemingly moved on and had even found someone else from the sound of it. She was happy for him.

“I’m so sorry,” he urged. “For everything. I was being a dick and a hypocrite. I knew what you were going through with the case, but I wasn’t processing the actual danger you were in. And I was angry I wasn’t the one you wanted to protect you. But I guess Malfoy, he…he’s actually doing a damn good job.”

“Wow, Harry really must’ve gotten to you. What did he say? Are you Polyjuiced right now?”

Ron let out a watery laugh. “What he needed to. You know how he is.”

She laughed gently in agreement and soon he was joining her. And despite the slightly awkwardness of it, she knew they were on their way to fixing the problems between them. She knew that now they could start being friends again.

But he wasn’t done it seemed. “And as for Malfoy…you really don’t think it’s just because of the situation?”

She groaned at him. “Are you implying that the only reason I’m involved with Draco is because my life is on the line? And you think that I’m turning to him for some fling based on a misplaced need for comfort?”

“Yes, I do,” he said, sounding more confident than he had the entire conversation.

She glared, sick of going in circles, but knowing it needed to be done. “He’s my friend, however wild a concept that is for you. Trust me, it took a very long time to accept it myself. But after everything I’ve been through, he was there for me, though it was grudging at first. It became something even he couldn’t ignore. The war changed him, and you know as well as Harry and I do that he was born into that life. He had no choice. We’ve talked about what happened, back then. He’s apologized but knows it’s not something that can be undone.” She took a breath.

“Well I guess but—”

“And though it may not seem like it at work, in public, to you, he _does_ care for me. I was there for him just as much as he was there for me. Think back on it, over the years have you ever seen him in one healthy relationship out of everyone he’s ever interacted with? Think about the people he was hanging around and _living_ with.”

Ron thought for a long time, and she allowed it. Otherwise, he may never comprehend just how alone Draco had been all those years.

He made a sound of acquiescence and knew he agreed, “Out of anyone, you would be the best I suppose.”

“Because I am logical, Ron, and I do not jump to base conclusions because of whatever stray emotion I might be feeling. I understand who he is and why and I accept him for that, and he’s not ever had that before. His mother, maybe, but even she wasn’t able to keep him from his father’s line of work.”

“Line of work, piss on that,” he groused.

“There was too much tension between us to ever have been friends as children, because he was raised to believe that I was worthless. But it had been shoved down his throat so much I think even he didn’t completely believe it. You saw how he warned us against leaving the forest in fourth year. He saved my life that day.”

“Like we would have ever gone over there anyway.”

“Dammit, Ron, listen to me! There was always that tension between us, and even now we still fight all the time, but that’s the difference between you and him. You and I hated each other for all of a few months and then we were thick as thieves. We became such good friends we confused it for romantic love when it wasn’t.” She realized she was practically rambling on, but she didn’t care. She had Ron’s attention completely; his eyes rapt as he listened to her speak.

She went on as if confirming it for herself, “We grew close because of the situation, yes, but it’s more than that. The case gave us a reason to be in the same room for longer than five minutes. It forced us to sit down and understand each other. And…there was always another kind of tension between us, one that was never present with you. Passion.” Ron blanched, “No, not like that! Well yes, actually…but I mean an intimate passion!”

“Merlin, Hermione! I don’t want to hear the nasty details of you two shagging it out.”

Hermione laughed breathlessly, “I mean that there is a level of understanding between us I never experienced with you, Ron. He’s seen me at my absolute worst, hopeless and broken. And yes, you were part of what caused it. That day after Harry and Ginny announced their pregnancy, everything changed.”

And she continued on, leaving a lot of tiny details out, and all of the developments as of late. Things like intimate nights and shared embraces was _not_ something she was about to discuss with him. But at the end of it, getting it all out in the open, she knew it was right.

In the very end he’d only sat there looking meekly out at the playing children. She felt at peace with herself and was enjoying the day as it was, content with waiting for him to answer her. Ultimately, she didn’t need his approval, she just wanted to tell him how it was. If he couldn’t accept it, then that was too bad.

Ron answered her sooner than she’d expected him to. And when he spoke he was quiet, but wistful. Like he gave up fighting it. “I’ve never understood you, Hermione, not entirely. And I guess that’s why you like him so bloody much, because no matter the odds it seems he understands what I never did. It’s infuriatingly strange and beyond foul, but…if Harry can be ok with it, I can. Mostly. I think.”

“I didn’t need you to be okay with it but thank you.” She smiled at him and felt safe enough to touch his hand for a stretched moment. He moved to squeeze her fingers and was happy to find it was a friendly squeeze and nothing more. He smiled sheepishly at her as he always used to do and knew it would be alright between them.

“Just give me a few weeks’ notice if you want us all to go for drinks at the pub or something. I’d need a few days to mentally prepare hanging out with Malfoy, in public,” he told her with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione pushed him, but he just laughed.


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione arrived back at Draco’s flat, _their_ flat, with her thoughts lighter than they’d been in over a year. Yes, there was still the issue with Blaise, and yes, things weren’t perfect between her and Ron yet. Perhaps they’d never be, but that was alright, because at least with him willing to listen to her now they could move towards the friendship that had made them so strong before when they were in school. Minus the relationship part.

That was reserved for someone else now.

She had barely taken two steps before a very blond, very solid object flung her up into the air and then was suddenly carrying her away. Draco must have been standing near her otherwise she would have noticed him earlier as she apparated into the room.

“Draco! What are you doing? Put me down!” But his grip was strong on her shoulder and thigh and the look on his face was deathly serious. She stilled, fearing something had happened while she’d spoken with Ron at the park.

Momentary anger dissolved to worry. “What…Did Blaise show up? What happened?” He pouted and she repeated his name. He scowled.

Finally he stopped, but he didn’t release her from his arms. It was a strange feeling, almost like vertigo as she realized she was quite a bit ways from the ground. She touched his face and he turned into her touch, meeting her eyes.

After the longest time, he finally muttered, “You were gone too long.”

She smiled a little, he’d been worried. “For good reason. Ron and I made up.”

“Made up?” His brow arched skeptically.

She lowered her hand to wrap her arms around his neck loosely. “Well, it’s not perfect, but I never expected that. But he’s willing to put everything that’s happened between us _behind_ us and finally move on with his life.” Her smile turned inward as she thought of all the private moments she’d witnessed of the man currently holding her. “Just as I’ve done.”

That emotion she was starting to place a name to flashed behind his grey eyes and then he was walking with purpose towards his bedroom. His lips tilted into a familiar smirk and his voice was noticeably darker as he said, “You were gone for far too long besides, and you’re going to make it up to me.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed despite herself. “You know that commanding way you ask for things will never get you anywhere.”

“Of course it will.” But he was chuckling too as he closed the door with his foot.

The muttering of a silencing charm and then they were left to themselves.

\--

“So, how are we doing this again?” Draco asked quietly. They were in Harry’s office at the moment, having used his private floo to get into work unnoticed by Blaise.

Hermione fingered the capsules of Polyjuice she’d packed and glanced at them to see they were just as they’d been five minutes ago. Bubbling and muck colored, waiting for their samples of DNA. The hair was in a small baggy in her other pocket, which she pulled out to place alongside the capsules.

One for Draco. One for her. Two extra.

Harry looked at them restlessly. He shifted his weight. Hermione recognized the look in his eye; he wanted to be doing something, to be helping. But it wasn’t his place to help today and so was rendered useless. At least that’s how he saw it. But there was something he could do.

“Blaise should be in his office right about now. Theo’s at Files, last time you checked?” she directed at her best friend. He nodded. “Good. How about you go get Ron?” she suggested suddenly.

“What? Why?” He was genuinely surprised at the idea, and with good reason, he didn’t quite believe he’d mustered the courage to talk to her. Harry would have to see with his own eyes.

“Yeah, why do need him?” Draco asked, perturbed at the very thought.

She waved a hand at them both. “Because, you two have been investigating this from the very beginning and it’s not in either of your nature to just sit back and do nothing.”

Harry gave an understanding smile and moved to the floo, almost tripping over himself he was so anxious. Draco sent a look to Hermione at the sight as Harry called on Ron through the flames. He arrived a moment later, more than a little perplexed as to why he was there. The tension between him and Draco when he caught sight of him was palpable, but wary and eventually he let it go. The fire of an oncoming argument dying in his eyes.

She laid out the items for their plan before her, explaining before Ron could ask any questions, “You and Harry will go to Blaise, say you’ve made a new development with the case. He’ll be too nervous to refuse you, seeing as how he’ll think he’s caught. Draco will go to Theo a while after you both leave, saying you need to have an urgent meeting with him, and you’ll go just as we originally planned. Then I will take the Polyjuice and raid Blaise’s office as Theo and be out before anyone suspects anything.”

“It sounds so pretty when you say it like that,” Draco remarked. “But what happens if Zabini doesn’t leave? What then?”

“He’ll leave if it’s both of us knocking on his door,” Ron told him.

Harry just nodded, that familiar look of _let’s do this_ in his eyes. “So, when should we go, ‘Mione?”

She fought a grimace at the annoying nick name, seeing Draco do much the same but not bothering with any attempt at hiding it, and glanced at Harry’s clock. “Any time within the next few minutes. The sooner this is over with the better. I think we all agree on that.”

“But why do you have more than one batch of Polyjuice?” Ron gestured to the capsules, reaching for one to inspect it. She watched him spin it around, observing the liquid.

“If something were to happen, we need to have a backup plan, so I made a little extra. Here.” She dug out another couple of small bags and handed one each to the men before her. Draco pocketed his, already having been briefed of it this morning at home. She suspected he didn’t appreciate Harry and Ron’s additional need for information.

“Whose hair is this?” Harry asked. And indeed, Draco rolled his eyes at him.

She explained quickly, glancing once more at the clock. “If something happens where you need to get away and are unable to apparate, become isolated as quickly as possible and take that with the capsule. It’ll last an hour. They’re each a hair of a single female coworker on another level of the Ministry. All pureblood. Blaise wouldn’t dream of searching any one of you out if it came to that.” She checked her own bag and brought forth a smaller cloth bag that carried changes of clothes and handed it to Harry and Ron. It had an undetectable extension charm on it, and he downsized it to fit it in his pants pocket. She’d done this the day before, making sure that each coworker in question would have today off. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that and the other doses of potion wouldn’t have to be used.

“Bloody fantastic,” Ron mumbled, obviously disliking the idea.

“It’s time. When you are out of the building, alert me using the wand charm I taught you earlier.” She urged them forward, waving her hands frantically towards the door. “Be safe.”

“Don’t have to tell us that.” They smiled lightly, but Hermione saw the hard clench of their jaws as they did. None of them had expected to be doing any of this ever again. But here they were.

The door clicked shut and then she was kissing Draco, standing on her toes, and pulling at his collar simultaneously to reach him. He was surprised at first, but relaxed into it and returned the kiss easily. That same emotion she saw so frequently behind his eyes was conveyed through his actions now as he stepped to meet her body action for action. His hands coming to rest at her hips, holding her almost desperately to him. When she pulled back, she met his eyes, realizing that perhaps not for the first time the same emotion was reflected in her own gaze. He kissed her once more and held her to him, both content to remain there for the remainder of the day.

But soon her wand was hot in her coat pocket, and reality came crashing down on them.

There was work to be done.

\--

Being raised to always have the last word showed in the way he couldn’t refuse parting with her without saying any sort of farewell. Not that it was a farewell, but it very well might turn out to be. And he didn’t know how he’d feel if something were to happen to either of them and then he was stuck with the fact that he hadn’t said anything at all.

Draco hated the way she lingered for all of a moment before stepping away too soon. He wanted her to linger, he wanted her to remain here. But it was pointless to think that way when there were darker things to carry out today.

He kissed her once more and spoke lowly, though there was no one around to overhear him, “Hermione, when this is—”

He wasn’t expecting her to hold his face gently with both hands. “If I’m not back in your office by the time we agreed, I’ll be home. Meet me there.”

The calm he saw in her eyes almost awed him it was so profound. The exact opposite of what was currently tumbling around in his stomach. If Zabini suspected _anything_ , if he got to her first—

Hermione seemed to sense his thoughts, for she repeated, “Meet me there.” Saying it so confidently made him believe that today would in fact go alright.

He would deny the way his voice broke the tiniest bit to the day he died. “I will.” He breathed her in, trying to lock away the comforting scent of her. “I will. I will.”

With a final shaky breath, she released him and whispered, “Now go.”

Fighting the way his hands twitched with the need to pull her close once more, he left the office without looking back. Fearing the desire to stay and confess his deepest thoughts too powerful if he looked upon her face right then.

\--

_Okay, I have an hour and a half at most to get in and get out. If it’s any longer than that, Blaise and Theo will start to get suspicious and end up coming back here. Harry and Ron can only hold off someone they barely know so long. And Draco and Theo may be friends, but we don’t even know if he’s completely innocent either…_

Hermione’s thoughts were chaotic as she endured the transformation the potion caused. She’d made sure to leave Harry’s office before she took the potion, having entered the bathroom beforehand. Heart hammering and palms sweating, she stepped out of the stall and walked to the shared counter adorned by a large mirror. When she looked at herself she was pleased to find that she was the perfect likeness to Theo, except maybe a bit more cheerful than the sullen man actually was. She lowered her lids a little and figured it would have to do. She just couldn’t afford to speak to anyone on the way there or on the way back.

She gazed at the floor as she walked to his office in his department, grabbing a random manila file folder so as not to look suspicious when she entered Blaise’s office. If it came to it, and she was forced to converse with anyone, she’d just say that Blaise had asked Theo to take care of something for him should he leave this afternoon. It wouldn’t be suspicious until after the fact when Blaise returned. But by then, he’d be arrested and they could move on with their lives.

That is if everything worked out okay.

Zabini, Zabini, Zabini, Zabini. Like a chant, she repeated his surname in her head as she tried to calm her thoughts.

She opened his locked door easily enough with a muttered spell and then she was inside, closing the door behind her as quietly as she’d entered. Hugging the folder to her chest she allowed herself a small smile for nothing had gone wrong so far.

Blaise Zabini’s office was plain and dark much like Draco’s office was which was ironic, though she should have figured. They’d shared a house and friendship for years, it was only natural they’d have shared a few things in common. She went to the drawer Draco said the paper had been in all those months ago. The one with Rachelle’s name on it.

Rifling through the drawers she found practical office supplies. Lots of paper, some extra quills with a classic ink pot, a muggle stapler that she almost laughed at, and a variety of things that held no meaning for her cause here.

“Where would you keep something that could jail you for life?” she mumbled aloud.

She glowered at his chair and stood, arms perched at her hips. _Books_.

She turned on her heel and eyed the many books lining his shelves. They were old. Titles that didn’t quite fit the pureblooded Slytherin in his line of work. It wasn’t likely that he would sit in his office all day and read things like _Potions: An Introduction to the Use of Caldrons and Their History_. Why would he need to read about the history of caldrons?

This was only a clue among many as most of the books were similar to this. She pulled them out one by one and started paging through them, hoping beyond hope that she’d find _something_.

She flipped through the first five or so relatively quickly. How hard could finding a scrap of paper in dozens of books be?

\--

Blaise eyed the two men before him carefully. He pasted a pleasant smile on his face and asked, “Ah, Harry, any luck in the case?”

Harry gave an equally cautious smile and beside him, the ginger seemed to be in a fouler mood than usual. Odd. “Oh, we have actually. We’d like to discuss the details with you, if you’re not too busy?”

His hopeful tone made Blaise wary. Had they found something to incriminate him? No…if they did, then they wouldn’t be wasting time asking him to come with them. If they had any real proof they’d be hauling him away right now. The most they could have at the moment was a suspicion of him. No, they probably just found something that ridiculous Astoria left behind at the mudblood’s house. But even so, that possibility could very well lead back to him, and it would, he knew, eventually. Better to eliminate any suspicions now than later when he was in court.

“Bored actually,” he said lightly, closing his door as he started to walk with them. He was comforted to know that his door would be automatically locked at this point, in case this was some plan crafted by Malfoy. Though he doubted the idiot had any sense left to plan something like that. The mudblood had him so tied up that all the blood needed for normal brain function was flowing to _other_ parts of his body that disgusted Blaise to even think about. He sneered to nothing in particular, realized that it would be strange to be doing so, and smoothed his face back into a mask of indifference.

He was supposed to be curious about the new information, and he _was_ , but for fear at being found rather than hope at catching someone else.

He hadn’t seen the two of them at work for almost a week now. Had Malfoy told Potter what happened at the manor and were subsequently removed from the case? Or were they sneaking around and doing work behind the Ministry’s back? That sounded more like the Golden Girl’s usual self. She’d been at the bloody ball for Merlin’s sake, and Malfoy hadn’t look pleased at all.

He knew enough about her to know she wasn’t the type to let things progress without her. Being the busybody that she was she would never allow it. So the fact they’d both been missing was strange. Malfoy maybe not so much, the blood traitor was a coward as it was. Maybe he’d abandoned the case altogether after being cursed in his own home.

So what had Potter and his little sidekick discovered?

It just didn’t make any sense.

As they were leaving the building, he thought this entire ordeal was suspicious. He’d be quiet and listen to this new information.

\--

Regardless of how on edge Draco was about the whole situation, worrying over whether Zabini would make it back before he did, worrying that Hermione would be stuck in his office and find nothing. Worst case scenario, Zabini discovered her in his office.

He didn’t want to think about the consequences of if he didn’t make it back first.

_I will. I will._

Briefly shutting his eyes to will the troublesome racing of his heart away, he refocused on Theo before him. The man was collected as he’d always managed to be, but he knew from the glint in his eyes that Theo was more than a little interested in the sudden meeting.

The café was an uninteresting little snick in the wall off the busy muggle streets and he knew they wouldn’t be recognized here. And when the waiter had come to take their respective orders, Theo didn’t even bother with the pretense of food, so neither did Draco. They’d ordered waters that they ignored.

Theo wasn’t pretending to be casual about being dragged out suddenly by Draco. “What did you want? It has to do with Blaise doesn’t it?”

Draco searched his face, finding only that calm mask that had always been in place. To anyone else it would seem that Theo was bored with the conversation, but Draco knew him better than that. At least enough to recognize it as the interest it was.

The fact Theo wasn’t darting out the door and apparating back to work said a lot of what he thought of the situation. That or he was being clever and utilizing the opportunity to get as much information as he could. It was most likely the latter.

Though if Theo wasn’t going to bullshit around, then neither was Draco. He couldn’t lie to him, not after his bold approach. “Yes, it does. Mind staying out for a while?”

“Not really. Files tend to be tedious work even on the best of days.” He smirked, and it surprised Draco that he even had the capacity for humor. “What has he done this time?”

“He hasn’t spoken with you?”

“I told you once before, after that meeting with the three of us he hasn’t spoken to me past asking for information from my department. What has he done?”

“Seeing as how I don’t have to dance around this whole thing, it’s best if you just sit back and drink your water for the next hour or so.”

Theo raised his lip in a sneer he hadn’t seen him wear too often. “You want answers, you have to ask the questions.”

Draco gave a sneer of his own, and said rather a little too harshly for the public setting, “Do you know where Astoria is? She’s dropped off the map recently.”

“You’re fidgeting,” he remarked coolly, making Draco frown at him. Theo answered, “London I’d assume. She’s never strayed too far from you.”

He rolled his eyes.

Theo continued, ignoring him. “Or her sister. She could very well be with Daphne.”

“How would you possibly know that?” he asked, doubtful.

“Because I saw Daphne walking around the Ministry, and entering Blaise’s office. I can only imagine why she’d bother visiting him at work.”

Draco remembered the day he’d seen Zabini and Astoria talking in the tailor shop. Astoria had been almost pleading in the way she’d referred to her sister, but he knew that she couldn’t care past more than a galleon and so he reasoned it must have had to do with money issues. He’d been right apparently. She’d latched onto Daphne for support.

Draco eyed him. “Fine. It makes sense she’d go to Daphne and Zabini.”

“She was attacked by Astoria was she not?” He paused. “Don’t look at me like that, I hear the rumors around work like everyone else, I merely pieced in Astoria’s involvement. Astoria wants to take out the competition whilst simultaneously keeping her Gringotts vault filled with gold.”

Running desperately tired hands through his hair, Draco looked at the table top. “We have the evidence to take down Astoria, just not Zabini.”

“You need something. And this is why I’m here today and not at my desk at work.” The silence gave him confirmation. “Logical plan, but where have you sent Blaise? I doubt he’d take kindly to my absence _and_ you both showing up for work for the first time in over a week.”

He glared. “It doesn’t concern you where he is.”

Theo leaned back and his smirk turned mocking.

Draco leaned back as well, gesturing with one finger at the glass of water as if it was offending, “Just drink your fucking water and wait for a while.”

“Whatever you say Draco Malfoy.” The silence stretched on and on and for a long time. Draco thought he’d finally achieved sweet silence so he could be left to think on the situation. But Theo surprised him by speaking so suddenly, it had caused him to jolt.

Luckily, Theo was no longer watching Draco, he had turned to gaze out the window overlooking the small area of street visible from this angle. Muggles walked back and forth quickly and obliviously.

Theo’s voice was velvet when he said, “He will kill her if you’re not careful. If you really love her, you must protect her. If it comes to it, you and Blaise will face off, and someone _will_ die. And whenever that day is, it will be a sad one.”

An even longer silence passed. Theo’s words had hit a little too close to home and he wasn’t exactly sure if that was a bad thing yet.

“I already knew that,” he muttered darkly.

Theo looked away, raising a hand to someone behind Draco. A moment later the same waitress from before appeared at their table. Absently, Theo said, “I think I’ll have some food now.”

_\--_

_Half an hour._

And Hermione hadn’t found the paper. She only had half an hour left before she needed to abandon her plan, leaving behind any chance at evidence. And waiting for another murder to happen wasn’t acceptable, and no longer plausible.

The potion would wear off any time now, and she definitely didn’t want that to happen. She was already pushing the limit at an hour. She needed to find this paper fast or risk Blaise finding her here, rifling in his office.

Blaise wanted her dead, and only _her_. The other murders had only been a warning, a series of clues. The breadcrumbs in the forest.

And she’d followed right along.

But she was in now and she wouldn’t back out until Blaise was locked away in Azkaban. That was the only choice at this point.

Using her wand to multitask, she flipped through half a dozen books at a time and fought the urge to toss them all angrily behind her.

Hermione needed that paper. Did he even have it anymore? He could have scrapped it a long time ago, there was no need to hold onto a paper of names you’ve already eliminated. But who could forget her name? There was no need for a list if the one you’re after is you’re primary target and also at your place of _work_.

There was no reason to keep that paper at all. And it was evidence so why keep something that would incriminate you? You wouldn’t. It was that simple. Still, the small fact that criminals, murderers, kept keepsakes to remind them of their tasks niggled at her brain and wouldn’t let her give up hope. She had to keep looking.

She swore loudly and pulled out the next half dozen books, floating before her, the pages rippling past. She grabbed one randomly out of sheer frustration and hung it upside down, ringing out the pages in case something would fall out.

Nothing.

The pages still flipping around her, she slid down and sat back against his desk. With a weary sigh she felt her chest begin to ache with that hopeless sadness you get when you desperately need to achieve something but just _can’t_.

But now wasn’t the time for sadness. Or hopelessness. Not even desperation. Now was the time for being practical. _Perspective_.

Something came back to her, something that had always been so routine during the last year of school they spent running around in forests and fields and Manors. The one word that always slipped past their lips without a second thought that had always seemed too easy, but just _did_ because you never knew.

You never knew.

She held her wand out before her, brown eyes slipping closed, then whispered, “ _Accio slips of paper_.” And waited.

She never thought she’d be so happy to have the sudden feel of paper in her hand.

\--

“I always wondered how girls could move in skirts like this,” Ron mumbled, glancing down at the pencil skirt he now wore. “You know, I think Hermione gave us these outfits as some sort of punishment!”

Harry looked worse for wear as he stumbled along in high heeled shoes. “You’re slouching, walk straighter.” But he didn’t disagree.

Ron looked behind them and all around as if searching frantically. Harry knew he thought he was being sneaky, but he needed to stop. “You’re freaking out, just look ahead and fight the urge to watch for Zabini.”

“He’ll bloody kill us all, Harry!”

Harry shot him a dangerous look. “The first place he’ll go is the Ministry after he’s got looking for us out of his system. He might even go to Astoria.”

Ron was obviously disturbed by the possibilities. “But Hermione is still there! What if he gets back before—”

Harry glared at him, effectively shutting him up. “Right now, he could be anywhere. We need to keep a low profile until we’re able to apparate and then we’ll activate the charm on our wands. Then she’ll know to get out.”

“We’ve failed. Oh Harry, we’ve failed.” Ron worried his hands in front of him, biting his lip and looking at the ground. It was no use; he wasn’t hearing anything Harry said anyway.

“Come on,” he ushered. They turned a corner and luckily there was a building ahead that he knew would have a lavatory for them to use.

Ron saw it too, and after a moment of quiet reflection he asked quietly, “How do you think he knew?”

“You were glaring at him the entire time.”

“I always glare at him. It was normal behavior,” Ron defended, ears reddening even as the person he was disguised as.

“He’s always been paranoid. Our very presence at his door probably tipped him off the moment he saw our faces.”

“ _If_ he is the killer.”

“He is,” Harry said darkly.

They stared at each other briefly, both knowing the situation was made worse by their own doing. Just as they neared the building, Harry said, “When we enter the loo I’ll activate the wand and then we turn.”

“We apparate back to the Ministry, right?”

Harry could only offer a solemn nod. He would never admit it, but his heart was racing with the same adrenaline that had filled his veins all those years at school. It was an unpleasant and exhilarating feeling all at the same time.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, each wary of how this would all turn out.

_\--_

_…key…_

_Rachelle…_

_Hermione Granger…_

The list. She’d found the list. Her eyes blurred with happy tears as she clutched the small piece of paper to her chest. This was all the evidence they needed. This was the beginning of the end. Through the haze of her relief she set his shelves right, as if no one had disturbed a thing.

The first few names were of those he’d already killed. She remembered the photos of Rachelle in the street, her chest carved.

Hermione felt her anger build at just the memory of it. Of all of it. All these months of endless planning and thinking and rethinking facts and occurrences. Of trying to piece everything together. From the first trickle of murders, to the headless dove that told her that all hope was lost.

But her hope was never lost. She’d never given up on the case, and neither had Draco. She could barely wait for when she felt his arms around her again, once all this was over.

She tucked the small note in her pocket, well Draco’s pocket, for she’d borrowed a set of his clothes for when she disguised herself as Theo, and stood.

But before she could even turn for the door, she heard the low vibrato of a voice that froze her in place.

“Why are you in my office?”

Her heart took off, as if it wanted clear out of her chest to plummet to the floor underneath her. Looking down at herself without moving her head, she knew the potion hadn’t worn off yet. She still had a chance. She could still play this off.

Hooding her eyes, she turned and grinned, hoping it was something that Theodore Nott was accustomed to doing when caught unawares. Blaise Zabini stood in the doorway of his office looking ready to kill. _And he would be, if he realized who I was._

He repeated himself, obviously not appreciating having to, “Why are you in my office? I thought you were at lunch already.”

She was thankful she hadn’t run into anyone earlier and hadn’t been forced to use the cover of saying Blaise had a job for him to do while away. If Blaise had spoken to that person, this meeting would be ruined before it even began.

But the door had been locked, how could she possibly play that off?

She spoke steadily, betraying the way her very nerves seemed to shake within her, “I found some files that might help you on that case you’re working on. I brought them by but didn’t realize you were already out.” She tried her damndest to look bashful at having been caught, but his face was stone and gave nothing away.

He nodded his head slowly, watching her with cautious eyes as she walked to him and handed him the file. “Where were you anyway? It’s not that often you take off.”

Zabini smirked almost sardonically at her words and tilted his head as if he couldn’t really believe he was taking the file folder from her. Thankfully, he didn’t open it. It was empty.

She needed to keep talking until Draco came back. If she moved her hand to her pocket now to activate the charm, Zabini would notice and know something was going on.

He was all venom as he nearly whispered, “That git Potter and his fuck buddy Weasley tried arresting me today. They got away before I could launch any real spells at them.” He huffed, which momentarily covered Hermione’s small intake of breath. They’d fought? His cold, depthless eyes met hers and she felt her heart nearly shrivel within her. “They know.”

“They do?” She really didn’t know what else to say. She couldn’t imply that she understood what he meant and she couldn’t imply that she didn’t. It was all up in the air now, all improv. She hoped desperately that she’d see a blond head enter her vision any moment now.

He suddenly grew angry, the mood swing coming out of nowhere, and he slammed his hand against the frame of his door. Outside, she noticed out of her peripheral vision several heads turn and then look away. He swore under his breath, “Fucking idiots think they can just arrest me. I didn’t know if I should have come back today. But they aren’t here yet, so maybe some of my spells did hit.”

She fought to keep her eyes hooded, tried to mask the shock she felt at hearing what he was saying. He was smirking again, the anger as fleeting as his previous indifference. He gripped her shoulder, gave it a solid squeeze and said low enough so that only they would hear, “I’m going to have to leave now. They’re going to be hunting me down. When the mudblood comes back to work, I need you to carry out my original plan alright? I’ll go with Daphne and skip out somewhere where we won’t be found.”

Her mind screamed _Theo was a part of this all along?!_ But she only asked, “What about Astoria?” Knowing that it was information that was justified being asked for and at the same time information she needed.

He actually sneered, disgusted by just the mention of her name. “One thing that blood traitor Malfoy was right about, she’s a bloody wench to be around.” He laughed heartily leaving no choice but for Hermione to chuckle along weakly.

She risked asking one final question, one that was also justified. Zabini seemed truly mad and really didn’t suspect her as anyone else _but_ Theo. “When?”

He released her shoulder, for which she silently released a held breath at and surprised her when he handed her back the folder. “I won’t need this. I’m leaving now. You come to me the moment she comes back to work, and that’s when we’ll move forward. It’s too risky now.”

She nodded seriously, watching as he withdrew further into his office and proceeded to simply ignore her as if he wasn’t just talking to someone he was supposedly friends with. _And was in a murderous partnership with too_. So Theo really couldn’t be trusted.

She closed the door behind her and hurried to the bathroom, knowing that at any moment the potion would cease to work the wonders it just had.

\--

Draco’s wand heated just as he prepared to apparate back to his office. Countless possibilities of _what happened_ flew through his mind as he apparated to where he knew Hermione would be, though whether it would be back at their shared flat or at the Ministry, he had no idea.

He startled when he saw her standing alone in his office of all places, there were tears in her eyes and for the first time in a while a haunted look stared back at him. Had she been attacked? Had Zabini already gotten here before him? She wasn’t dead…so what was wrong, there was no blood on her person. He got as far as raising one hand hesitantly and then she was running to him, clutching him so tightly he thought she might break apart in his arms. He held her and realized perhaps a little late that she wasn’t crying in sorrow, she was crying from joy. She was muttering something that turned muffled against his chest and then those wide brown eyes were shining up at him.

“The names, I got the names. Blaise—Zabini, he’s—he’s in his office. He _found_ me Draco. But he’s mad, he wasn’t thinking clearly, didn’t even—suspect that it was me polyjuiced as Theo. Theo! He’s not who we thought. Theo’s working with him too, he’s behind it. He planned it with him. And Astoria, she’s not even—”

In the confines of his office, he felt alright kissing the top of her head, interrupting her disturbing relay of what happened. “He _what_? Did he attack you? Are you hurt?” She shook her head no and he felt himself relaxing despite himself, asking instead, “Theo? He’s been working with Zabini this whole time?”

She nodded and continued her rant as if the interruption had never occurred, “And they fought, Zabini and Harry and Ron. They fought…and I have _no_ idea where they are. I’m afraid, I don’t know if they’re alr—” Suddenly she stilled in his arms and she pulled back just enough to feel for her wand. She cradled it in her hands and then as suddenly as she was frightened for her friends’ safety, she was smiling through newly formed tears of relief. Draco realized what that could mean just before a pop echoed throughout his office.

Hermione ran to them before they could even gather their wits about them, and from the looks of it, it would be a while. The potions had yet to wear off on them, and it was quite possibly the most amusing thing he’d seen in a while to see them both dressed as women. Possibly more amusing even than when he’d made his old mates potion themselves in sixth year.

But the dread he’d felt not even five minutes prior was more than enough to keep any sort of bemused expression from his features. He could only keep his eyes trained on Hermione. He couldn’t quite process the information that she’d not only run into Zabini, but that he’d not caught on that it was her and that Theo was working with him all this time. But earlier, what he’d been told by Theo…it still didn’t make any sense.

Would it ever?

_He will kill her if you’re not careful. If you really love her, you must protect her. If it comes to it, you and Blaise will face off, and someone will die. And whenever that day is, it will be a sad one._

He knew the git could lie just as well as the Dark Lord himself when it called for it, but those words had seemed so honest, so sincere. Even he had looked forlorn about it. Like he feared the day when what he said came true.

Draco felt new rage boil dangerously within him as he thought of Zabini still in his office in the _same fucking building_ as he was. As Hermione was. He took a single, halting step forward, debating whether or not to go and confront the man. Sumptuously, the rage inside of him licked at his more vengeful side. It told him to make this the day that Theo envisioned.

“Draco?”

Hermione called his name so softly, it broke his resolve, it shattered his anger and rooted him to the spot. He was here for her. Just her. And the look on her face made his breath stop short.

He loved her so much.

The revelation wasn’t exactly _new_ , but it was the first time around Potter and Weasley that he’d ever thought it. And he couldn’t completely wipe the look of affection for her from his face as he stared at her. One brow rose, and he knew she was asking him a silent question. He must’ve been glaring at nothing the past few moments.

The female versions of Potter and Weasley were staring at him. The one he assumed was Weasley was glaring at him with a haughty pout while Potter just seemed…questioning. Curious. And he knew then that Potter recognized the look in his eyes, possibly even the ginger had. It turned his stomach to think of what they’d do to him, but he didn’t particularly care at the moment because she was safe. And that was what mattered.

“Is he still here?” he asked instead, in explanation. She understood his anger better than most.

She shook her head no, unfortunately. “He said he was skipping out. Leaving with Daphne.”

That honestly surprised him. “Why? He really abandoned Astoria?”

She nodded again, and began to tell them everything that happened. As did Harry, Ron, and then Draco told them of the strange conversation he’d had with Theo. But he left out some parts that only she would hear later. Much later. When they were both back in their bed, and not out in the open for her overzealous friends to hear.

The last thing he wanted was unneeded questions.


	21. Chapter 21

It was clear that Blaise Zabini had developed a madness in the years since the war ceased to rage through the Wizarding world. To think that someone who had been in a rather tight knit circle of death eaters for his cold calculating eyes and demeanor, for the way he could perform without question, now could not tell between a polyjuiced person and his own confidant…it was almost unimaginable.

He had fallen.

It was a ridiculous thought, and a residual one at that. Leftover from the old days. Draco had considered the man a friend for years, though over the last two or so they’d seen less of each other than he had liked, though of course he hadn’t voiced this. But he wasn’t stupid enough to think they were close friends, never that. Theo even lesser still.

Theodore Nott.

The more he went over every conversation he’d had with the intuitive man only served to reinforce his doubt. He didn’t know if he was playing along and humoring Draco, or humoring Zabini. He wasn’t stupid enough to go along with him blindly. And the sincerity he’d always spoken to Draco with was unquestionable honesty. Or at least it seemed like it. If it was forced, he lied better than Draco. He didn’t know if he was a double agent of sorts, or if he was truly out to rid the world of Hermione Granger.

His Hermione Granger, his Granger. His witch. No one would take her away from him. Even if Theo turned out to be playing Zabini, if he got in the way of protecting her, Draco would not hesitate to hurt him or even kill him. Never would he have thought himself capable of believing those words, but with each passing moment of danger drawing ever closer, he was beginning to find it quite easy.

_“He will kill her if you’re not careful.”_

He knew that.

_“If you really love her, you must protect her.”_

He…what right did Theo have to just blurt it out like that? He hadn’t known before—or had he?

_“If it comes to it, you and Blaise will face off, and someone will die. And whenever that day is, it will be a sad one.”_

Why would it be a sad one? He had no intention of dying. If Daphne ever cared for Zabini at all, she’ll be sad, but she had her family to fall back on. Astoria couldn’t care less past a piece of copper, let alone gold. And he doubted with certainty that Granger wouldn’t be sad. Maybe angry at Draco for killing him, but—Wait, why was he thinking about this so ahead of time? There was no use planning things out. He knew too well how that usually turned out for him.

Whatever happened, whenever it happened…it would happen. And that was it.

There would be nothing else.

\--

Hermione found Draco on the couch, in the dark, glaring intensely at some far away spot on the floor. She knew his thoughts were laden with much the same things hers were. Zabini. Theo’s possible betrayal, staying alive, keeping those close to you alive. She stood behind him a moment, just idly in the hallway watching him. Seeing him sigh suddenly and drop his face into his hands broke her heart a little. This was not a new feeling. Every time she was able to steal private moments like this and see him as he was, just _him,_ was something that made her chest ache and her eyes swell with tears she didn’t know the reason for.

She went to sit beside him, not announcing her entry because there was no reason to. He didn’t look at her, not even when she began to guide his body to lie down, his upper body between her legs and facing away as she began to work steady and firm hands between his shoulders. She heard the small sound of relief spill from his lips and she knew he’d be closing his eyes and enjoying the massage as best he could. The tension would never disappear though, not as long as Zabini was still out there, lurking almost intimately close. They just didn’t know. Not where he was. Not when he’d strike.

So why worry?

There was now and that was all that mattered, to her at least. And dammit, she’d make the best of the time they had left before the inevitable confrontation with Zabini. She’d accepted that. They would have to fight.

Harry and Ron had argued immensely against this course of action, but this was her choice. Hers and Draco’s. The way he’d not argued to preserve her safety in the form of keeping her away from the problem at hand told her all she needed to know about his current state of mind. He’d resolved to fight to. He was deliberately going against what she knew was his very nature, to stay out of it, to get out while he could, but if Draco was anything, it was stubborn until the very end. And she knew that it was a slew of other things as well. The most prominent to her being that he cared about her. Something both of them never expected to happen from this chance pairing.

Draco relaxed further down into her arms, lying completely back so that she laid her arms across his chest, holding his hands gently. He squeezed and she knew it was a silent thank you for taking his mind off things for awhile. She rested the side of her head against his, blond hair tickling around her peripherals. She inhaled his scent, loving the way it warmed her within moments.

And just like that, her thoughts were clear. She felt relaxed.

The serene quiet stretched, casting a rare shadow that eclipsed the rest of the world’s worries from their minds. But it couldn’t last forever, and surprisingly Draco was the first one to bring it up.

“It doesn’t fit.”

She angled her head so she could catch the look on his face, a concentrated one, then settled back where she’d been. “What do you mean?”

“Theo. Everything he’s said to me since the very first murders happened, it’s like it’s been leading up to this. It’s like he knew something like this would end up happening.”

“He did score high in Trelawney’s,” she said, smiling. She felt his face shift with the effort of his smirk but his mood only seemed to darken even more after it fell away, quick as it was.

“No. Not like that, more like its some elaborate plan he’s worked out. Like he’s writing out a story or something.”

He trailed off and didn’t seem inclined to continue, so she hedged a little. “What did he say that makes you think that?”

Draco grew quiet, and Hermione wondered if he was going to refuse to talk about it. But he started saying something once then stopped, choosing what exactly to say. Finally, he just said, “He said you were beautiful.”

“What?” She couldn’t quite control how high her voice sounded, she was too surprised. “Was Blaise there?”

“No…No one was. That’s just it. We met in the Hog’s Head months ago, a week after I was assigned as your guard. Remember?” She nodded, and he continued, “Zabini left almost directly after he sided with me about your merits. And then shortly after that he just slipped it in.”

“There was no need to lay it on that thick,” she said, disbelieving.

Draco was not amused. “Exactly, there was no reason at all. No one to impress. No one around to hear.”

She lowered her chin to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, saying, “Maybe he knew you had a thing for me all the way back then.”

She was so close to him, she felt his flesh heat at her comment. But he didn’t refuse it. Or deny it. She smiled against his skin, but said in a more serious tone, “It was so offhand, it must have been what he honestly thought.”

“That’s what I’ve been debating the last few days.” They’d not gone back to work, and wouldn’t be for obvious reasons. Blaise planned to attack as soon as they returned to work, assuming Theo really was working with him. “Everything he’s ever said, everything, has had a purpose. He never speaks without thinking and I can’t decide whether he’s lying or telling the truth.”

“The way Blaise made it sound in his office was like he had unwavering support. He _knew_ Theo was on his side a hundred percent. But then Theo was talking so naturally with you, so heartfelt…”

“He didn’t turn Zabini in. Didn’t turn Astoria in.”

“Maybe he’s cursed,” she whispered, thinking of how Viktor had been under the _imperio_ curse so long ago, not wanting to believe that they’d be dealing with another possible Dark Lord rising.

“Maybe, but that wouldn’t allow for any convincing emotion to play through.”

“Obliviated?”

“Possibly. But how would he get his memories back and forth so quickly?”

She was contemplative. “It took me months to restore my parents’ memories. It’s not an easy thing to pull off.” And she seriously doubted Blaise Zabini’s skill in eliminating and restoring memories.

Draco let out a heavy sigh, laying his head back with a frown. She pressed soft lips to his temple and grasped his hands more securely in her own. She knew how he felt right now. She felt it too. Frustrated, desperate for any new information.

And then it came to her. Just as it had been invisibly hanging between them for the entire conversation. A perfect setting to get what they needed.

“We need to see Theo. Both of us.”

Draco began to turn in her grasp, protesting, but she held him tightly in her arms. He couldn’t move without dislodging her, so he grunted disapprovingly and stayed where he was. She spoke over him, not letting any possible comeback from him get in her way.

“You know it just as well as I do. If we’re going to get anywhere in this, we need to talk to him.” She lowered her voice, “Besides, I could just obliviate him after. It won’t be that much of an issue.”

His rigid posture in her arms told her he was considering her words. That he recognized the truth in them, no matter the risk it posed.

He placed his hands over her own, kissed her wrist briefly. He let out a held breath and she could practically feel how ragged it was, how tired he felt. Finally, he said, “I thought that, after your parents…”

Hearing the question in his voice she answered, “I’d do it again, for this. It feels like back then. You know?”

Grimly, he nodded in her arms. “At least we don’t have another war on our hands.”

“Very true. But we need to finish this before it evolves to that.”

He angled his head to look back at her as best he could. She met his eyes, seeing for the first time in weeks a peace there. “I’m not running.”

“Neither am I.”

Each studied the other in that moment, and finding they shared the same resolve, they met each other for a kiss. This night was the deciding factor in what would inevitably change the course of their futures.

Whether they lived or died in the next few hours, days, or weeks, tonight would be given over to something shared that neither wanted to relinquish. Tonight would be for the moment. For them. Their differences would meld and give them something unbreakable. Something untouchable.

And they would face Theo, they would face Blaise, and they would meet their fates.

Just the two of them.

\--

“So where are we going again?”

The reply was late in coming, but come it did in the form of a raised voice tinted with odd excitement. “It’s a surprise, Daphne, remember? Just get packed, and you’ll see soon enough.” Finally, Blaise entered the room, strolled over to her and kissed her easily. She smiled at him, still curious. This wasn’t like him, not at all.

“Well, that gives me nothing to go on. I just want to _know_ a little about where we’re going.” Her lover tilted his lips and put the pad of his thumb against the corner of her mouth. Trailing it down to her throat, he stayed silent.

“Blaise?” she asked, as the moment began to stretch uncomfortably thin.

“Hm?” Like he hadn’t heard her, he kept his thumb at her neck and then as suddenly as it was there, it was gone. The way he’d been staring at it was strange, but he’d been doing that a lot lately. Just zoning out. She wondered what was wrong. But she didn’t ask, knowing that he’d just give his usual answer; work problems. Whatever case he was working on was taking its toll.

He left the room and she resumed her packing. She didn’t know where they were going. She just knew they were leaving tonight.

It was hardly as if they were fleeing the country, she snorted at the thought.

The image of Astoria, drunk and obviously upset, came to her. For a moment her hands stilled, and she thought that maybe what her sister had said about Granger being dead hadn’t been as farfetched as she’d originally thought. She felt suddenly uncomfortable about the whole thing.

Blaise came bursting in the room suddenly, startling her. In reality he’d simply just walked back in, not burst, but now the doubt was in her mind. Were they fleeing London? Europe? It would explain her sister and her lover’s strained relationship, however unorthodox it had been. It would explain the sudden vacation time from work he’d gotten. And she hadn’t even heard from her sister for a while. What had happened after she’d kicked her out?

Blaise was staring at her, eyebrow raised, lips twisted into an amused smirk. He shook his head bemusedly, and those dark eyes flashed once as he once more left the room. He’d come back for his tie. That was all. So why was her heart hammering? Why were her hands clenched so tightly?

What was this unexplainable fear suddenly coursing through her?

Daphne scolded herself, gathering her wits. Unclenching her hands, she resumed packing once more. She was smarter than this. If anything, she could pull off an act. Beginning to think of everything that seemed off the last few months, she methodically packed.

She wouldn’t know for sure if there was indeed something wrong until after they left, until after she found out where they were going. And if indeed he was keeping something from her, she’d know the moment she learned how long they were staying.

Daphne remembered the war. If it came to it, she worried she wouldn’t be allowed to leave.

She ignored the slight ache at the thought of Blaise being at fault for the rumors of Hermione Granger being hunted down. She wasn’t a fan of the woman, but she never wished harm on her! Now was no time for emotion. Now was time for fact.

Tucking her wand close to her breast within the inner pockets of her sleek dress robes, she began to formulate a plan of her own. Just in case.

Her mother had taught her that.

\--

_Theo._

_Come to The Hog’s Head tomorrow at noon._

_We know._

Theo tossed the small note the owl had delivered into the embers of his fireplace. He hardly had to imagine _why_ Draco Malfoy had sent a note to him. He knew immediately that Hermione Granger had a role in this too.

Blaise wouldn’t know of this meeting. It was too much of a risk to allow anyone involved know beside himself. If anyone else found out, he’d be jeopardized, and then more lives would be lost. And he couldn’t allow that.

So Draco knew. And Granger knew.

Somehow, this didn’t affect him as much as he thought it would originally. Predominately he’d envisioned him being sick to his stomach, nervous. But nothing came to him.

His hands were still, breathing steady, head clear.

He knew that tomorrow would be the prestige event. Tomorrow the truth would be told. Tomorrow, Draco and Granger would know what he was doing. What he’d been doing all along.

And then maybe, finally, he would be able to rest.


	22. Chapter 22

Hermione felt more nervous than she’d been in a while. She’d never sat down and had a thorough discussion with Theo and although part of her was a little excited at talking with the reclusive man, she was reserved. She knew that if Theo was indeed working with Blaise, than she would have to obliviate him. And if it came to it, she might be forced to do it right here, in a public setting.

So, when she realized The Hog’s Head’s secluded atmosphere had not changed since their school days, she was able to relax a little. However, when she spotted the wizard towards the back corner of the pub, her heart beat a tiny bit faster.

As she locked eyes with him, his lips curved in a small smile. Why, she had no idea. The comforting presence of Draco’s hand on her lower back brought her out of her trance, and allowed her to finally wrench her eyes away from Theo’s. As they sat across from him, he wasted no time in getting to the point.

“You know Blaise’s true intentions now, right?”

His demanding tone came across as a statement and a question, and Hermione didn’t know how to respond at first. Draco’s silence was either his refusal to talk at the moment, or he didn’t know what to make of it either.

So Theo continued, like he expected this. “He wants to kill you,” he said to Hermione. “And now he wants revenge on you as well, Draco. He has a personal grudge after what happened at the ball.”

“He told you all this?” Draco practically barked.

Theo eyed him, obviously not wanting to explain the _why_ and just get on with his story. He was treating this meeting as if it was he who had called them here, and not the other way around. But finally, he huffed and clarified, “He tells me enough. As much as I need to keep feeding him information so he knows where you both are.”

“If he had that information all that time, then why aren’t I already dead?” she asked him, her anger sparked. She felt rather than saw Draco flinch beside her at her choice of words.

However minute the action was, Theo noticed it too, for he stared at Draco for a long time before he replied, “I’ve given him false information obviously.” His hooded eyes alighted on hers. “I do not wish you dead.”

“Why? If you weren’t cursed, why were you willingly helping him and then deliberately going against him?”

“What the fuck, Theo?” Draco finally hissed. “This is conspiring to murder. To murder _her_!” He gestured with both hands to the woman beside him. “This isn’t a game—”

Theo frowned, the greatest emotional display she’d ever witnessed from him. He practically glared at Draco as he insisted, “I had my own motives I assure you. Do not think I would willingly murder. You saw the same things I did during the war, don’t act like you’re so goddamn special, Draco _Malfoy_.”

The tension amounted, growing and growing until it looked like at any moment Draco or Theo would vault over the table at each other, so Hermione said, purposefully pleading, “But _why_? Why does he even want me dead?”

It was effective, as if her words had severed whatever cord had come to connect their anger at one another. Draco slumped in his seat and glared, while Theo sat back and smoothed half his hair to the side.

“He thinks your kind are selfishly using the quirk in your genetics to plummet purebloods into darkness. He is trapped in his own guilt over what he’s done in the past and this is why I think the hate has thrived so strongly inside him all these years, made worse by the fighting. By killing you, I think he expects his darkness to end, that his tragedy will be erased.” He smiled sadly. “But it won’t be.”

“You spoke of motives…?” she intoned, trailing off, not wanting to shatter the moment.

Softly this time, he said, “Because I wanted to see Blaise fall. He came to me. He wanted my help and I thought I would be able to redeem my role in the war if I was able to sabotage Blaise before he murdered anyone.”

“Well it didn’t bloody work, mate,” Draco seethed. Hermione withdrew the small piece of paper and placed it in the center of the table, pushing it to Theo. He took it and once he realized what it was, seemed to deflate a little.

“I didn’t mean for anyone else to die. I really didn’t.”

Knowing that Draco wouldn’t accept anything he had to say as truth at this point Hermione knew that tone of voice wasn’t a lie. She’d heard it in Harry and Ron, in Draco even. She knew it as remorse, as regret. No matter how much of a mastermind Theo possibly was at crafting lies, he wasn’t lying this time. And she believed that.

“Why didn’t you go to Harry at the start, before the first murder even happened?”

“Blaise never told me the details, especially not in recent weeks, as I told you before. In the beginning, I only knew vaguely that he was planning something against you, Hermione. And I didn’t report it to Potter because I knew I needed evidence before any convictions were to be made. Just as you have to be sure, I needed to be sure. After the first murder happened, I knew I was meeting with both Blaise and Draco here a week later. So I waited.”

“I can under—”

Draco interrupted her, “It was hardly as if you told me he wanted to kill her! You could have just spit it out and let me take care of it. You knew I was working on the case, so you must have figured out that I was doing it mostly behind Potter’s back!”

“At the time, I was still concerned with Blaise’s doings. I’m not claiming it wasn’t a stupid path to take, and there is no excuse. Innocent people died, your friend died, because I didn’t step forward in time.” He lowered his head to her, “And for that I am truly sorry.”

Draco wasn’t having any of it, his anger overtaking him. “There was always a _time_ , Theo. You could have gone to me or Potter any time at all, and you didn’t. Why the hell not? What reason do I have to believe anything you’re saying?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Theo’s silence forced Draco to be silent as well. “Because, Draco. I was trying to get solid evidence against him.”

Realization dawned on her; Theo had been shadowing Blaise, just as Draco and she had been doing. He’d been on the inside, and that was the only difference. This is what they had needed.

Theo was their evidence.

“Did you manage to find anything?” she asked him.

“Anything to prove his guilt in the Ministry’s court? No. I’ve been looking for a time to take him out myself, but I’ve been unable.”

“Oh, like you two weren’t close enough?” Draco hissed. Instantly, Hermione felt her heart fall to her stomach. The one person who could have gained any evidence against Blaise, any concrete form to convict him, possibly for life, had failed. A witness only went so far in the Wizengamot.

Theo ignored him, tapping the paper before them all with a delicate touch. His voice was thoughtful as he said, “But it’s as if you’ve forgotten your own triumph. You have _this_. The Ministry has the bodies of the muggles he’d killed with Astoria.” He was right, they already _had_ the evidence.

“And we have you to testify,” Draco muttered, echoing Hermione’s thoughts.

Theo nodded to him. “Yes. You do.”

“But wait…where is Astoria, Theo?” Hermione asked, cautiously wondering.

“I already asked the git that, and he doesn’t know,” Draco said, making a fist on the table.

“Theo?” she urged.

He shook his head, “I’m afraid I honestly have no idea. I told Draco that the most likely place she’d be is with her sister. But seeing as how Blaise fled with Daphne, I doubt that’s likely. Blaise wants nothing more to do with her; I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed her too.”

“That stupid bint.”

“Draco!”

His eyes went wide. “Don’t tell me you’re going to defend her? She tried killing you. Theo even said he helped Blaise knock off the others.”

“You loved her once didn’t you?” she snapped. She didn’t hold any positive feelings for the witch, and was certain that she never would. But she didn’t like the idea of her turning up dead either. “It would be strange for you not to feel something.”

That quieted him. But it didn’t last long, “That was a very long time ago. And as soon as I realized she was out to kill you, anything else I felt towards her was erased. You don’t…Just—” He grunted in frustration and looked away.

Theo, to his credit, said nothing in the way of judgment during this. He just continued to observe with those quiet, hooded eyes of his until they were finished. “The fact remains, the less life lost, the better. I think we can all agree on that.”

Draco muttered something under his breath, but she missed it despite her proximity to him. Theo seemed to know what he was saying as he suddenly commented on it, the ferocity in his voice clearly demanding. “You remember my words, do you not?”

They locked eyes, and it was almost a battle of power between the two of them before Draco nodded slightly. Theo nodded as well. “Then you need not question it any longer. You understand that I truly am on your side. I’ll gladly accept whatever punishment the Wizengamot decides, as long as Zabini is locked away or dead. There can _never_ be another war.” Theo’s eyes shone, and it was a surprise to see him so shaken.

But this was the final moment. This was the one question they’d needed answered today. And she knew that after this conversation, after everything they’d heard from him, that Draco wouldn’t be able to fight it anymore.

Draco was chewing on his lower lip, staring at Theo. Something unsaid passed between them and Draco nodded.

Theo turned to Hermione. “Will this be enough?”

She smiled, relieved. “Yes. Thank you.”

Theo flashed a weak smile at her words and slid the paper back to her. She pocketed it and he stood. Draco pushed himself up and walked just ahead of Hermione, not wanting to be in the same room as their newest ally. The rest of the pub paid them no attention, and she was thankful no one had bothered to offer them drinks or food. The mere sight of them might have been enough to make any onlookers wary.

They exited onto the cobbled street, and she saw Draco ahead of them in the distance. He was watching them intently, and after squinting in their direction for a while longer, he must have determined that no, Theo wasn’t going to run off with her, so it was okay to turn around and seethe in the afternoon sunlight. She knew he was just thinking about how everything would turn out, in the end.

She looked up at Theo, who had his eyes trained sadly on Draco’s back. Ignoring her curiosity at the look, she turned towards him. She was just about to leave him with a goodbye, and a promise to talk to Harry about all of this and work on his defense for the court, but when he met her eyes, the severity there stopped her short.

“I’ve already told him this, but you need to hear it as well. I warned him the day would come when Blaise and he would face each other. I told him that in order to protect his love,” He gave her a pointed look, “That he would have to be prepared to fight him. I’ve only ever seen that fire in him once before. And that was when he was issued the task of killing Dumbledore.”

Stunned by this sudden information, she could only blurt out a tiny, “What?”

He huffed out an impatient breath. “You’re not understanding me. I fear that out of this fight, one will die.”

Finding her voice, she breathed out, “But, why? Why would you tell him such a thing?”

“I told him because I recognize the look in his eye. He’s prepared to kill, only this time I think he actually is willing to do it.” He looked back to Draco again, who was again turned and eyeing them, wondering at their conversation. She found his eyes and couldn’t manage even a small smile. Theo spoke without turning back to her, “I told him it would be a sad day.”

She frowned and the vigor in her voice wouldn’t allow it to falter anymore. “Draco will never take a life.”

“How can you know?”

He may be a newfound ally, but it didn’t automatically erase the previous anger she’d harbored at him and the months of confusion. Fighting the urge to yell at him, she kept her tone deceptively controlled, “Because if anyone is going to kill that son of a bitch, it’s going to be me.”

Theo laughed once briefly and met her eyes. He seemed satisfied with what he saw there. He began to turn as he said one final thing in parting, “I’ll go to Potter later. That paper is invaluable. Do not misplace it.”

Still miffed at his elusive words, she didn’t grace him with a reply as he stalked off, his posture as hunched as she’d always observed it to be. She went to Draco and hugged him, not caring if any wayward eyes saw them.

He returned it hesitantly, but equally as tightly. “What did he say?” He asked, immediately suspicious. He thought Theo had disturbed her somehow.

“Nothing I didn’t already know I suppose. Nothing to worry about.” She pressed a quick kiss to the exposed skin of his collarbone and patted his chest once as she pulled away. “Don’t worry, alright? He’s clearly on our side, he just didn’t know how to go about it.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, obviously.”

“We didn’t know what to do for the longest time either,” she said, poking him. “He’s going to talk to Harry either today or tomorrow, tell him everything he told us.”

“About time,” he muttered. Hermione saw his anger draining away, leaving behind the exhausted man he’d been the last few weeks. And it was no wonder, after what Theo had told her, he’d been plagued with the burden of possibly taking a life all this time. An inexplicable need to handle him gently overcame her suddenly and she looped her arm through his. Surprised by her forward show of affection, he arched a brow down at her. In explanation she merely gestured to the shops of Hogsmeade. “Come on, let me buy you something. Maybe it’ll take your mind off things to feel like a spoiled rich Malfoy again.”

He wrinkled his nose. “How about we just go for some coffee and lunch?”

She found his hand, laced their fingers together. “Sure thing.”

\--

They were lounging on the couch, legs entwined when the fire roared, the flames licking the emerging forms of Harry, Ron, and to their surprise, Theo. There was a moment of pause shared between them all before Draco and Hermione gathered their wits and she rose, offering her hand to Draco to pull him up after her.

Smoothing her clothes, she addressed Harry before the growing silence could become awkward, or violent. “What are you all doing here?” Her eyes landed on Theo, stayed there the longest. He didn’t seemed unnerved by what he’d walked in on, just wore the same severe expression as he had this afternoon.

Ron nudged Harry, drawing him out of his thoughts. Even Ron seemed preoccupied, his gaze dark and posture heavy. Harry didn’t even bother throwing them an unneeded smile. Whatever they were here for was strictly business. Merlin, she hoped it wasn’t another murder.

“Theo’s told us everything and although there will be a mountain of legalities to sort through once this ordeal is over with, I am giving him clearance to work with us until it’s over. We need his help. I think you’ll agree with that.” She nodded, already having come to that conclusion. Though popping up in their living room like this was rather abrupt.

And judging from the look he threw at Harry, Draco thought much the same. “That’s all well and good, but _why_ are all of you here?”

Ron spoke up, and said with an edge to his voice, “He’s going to call on Zabini.”

The blond stared, observing every small detail of Ron’s face and processing the words that hung in the air like sap. It rained on them and the tension only muddied. Theo, she noticed, stayed silent through all this.

Draco’s voice came out quiet, steady, “Set up the place for the last fight?”

“Alright.”

Every head in the room turned to the Hermione as she trained her gaze on Theo’s. All at once everyone was speaking and threatening and arguing over her simple agreeance. Easily made for an easy decision. The tumult continued on for a while but she didn’t pay them any attention. Theo held her attention for he was the only one not arguing with her pointlessly. He nodded to her, and only her. Some intimate meaning passing between just the two of them.

However, the moment was broken when she felt Draco nearer than he had been, and then he was asking her, “What do you mean, alright? You’re the one who likes to discuss these things to bloody high hell before a decision is made.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m agreeing to it. Because ultimately, it’s my life Blaise is after and if the fight could be months off, I’d rather get it over with.” She lowered her voice, turning to him so the others wouldn’t hear. “I know you feel the same.”

She saw in his eyes, and from the way he bit his lip before stepping away that deep down, he really did agree with her. With the action came the unsaid agreement not to argue with her as Ron and Harry too had quieted. She looked at them both in turn, letting her eyes do the talking for her. They knew her better than anyone and knew they understood that nothing they could say would change this.

They all knew she was right.

“So,” Theo breathed, the first time he’d spoken since arriving. “When?”

“Give it a week. By then, Blaise will have had the opportunity to become relaxed wherever he is and then he won’t question our ‘arrival’ back at work after so soon. We have the advantage of setting up a meeting point at least, and preparing. He’ll have been on guard for long enough and eventually become paranoid. He’s already off as it is,” she told the group.

There came a sigh of approval from Draco. “We just have to knock the bastard down a few pegs and the fight’s as good as ours.”

“Indeed,” granted Theo. Draco eyed him, but Hermione barely registered it. Her mind was working battle strategies and plans. She knew from the glint in Harry’s eye that he was doing the same. They were back in war mode.

They were good at this, and she’d almost forgotten.

\--

America.

A vast scope of muggles and too few Wizarding kind for her liking. Daphne felt out of her place here. Naked. Vulnerable.

Why had Blaise brought them out _here_? She’d heard about the wonders of California, the endless sunshine and oranges and all that bollocks, so yes, she could understand being taken for a vacation to California. But this wasn’t California. It wasn’t New York. Or Chicago.

This was Ohio.

She may not have been up to date with all those silly devices that muggles use, or American landmarks, but she knew for a fact that Ohio was not a prime target for visitation. But she dare not ask why Blaise had brought them here. It had become startlingly clear in the last few days just how much Blaise had changed.

She’d always assumed it was the stress from the job, from having to deal with Astoria’s constant prattling about Granger and Draco. But really, who cared if they were shagging or not? Certainly not her. She had Blaise, and he was enough to calm the need for gossip in her. It was an unexpected side effect of being with him, she had found, but after a while she really didn’t miss having to keep up to date with things she truly didn’t care about in the first place. She was happy.

The first few days they’d been here, he hadn’t left the hotel. It was tiresome dealing with things the muggle way, but it was a necessary evil if this “vacation” was going to work. But he hadn’t planned any outings or dinners. Nothing. He hardly spoke. And when she did happen to break his silence he was harsh and angry. The first few times she’d been so shocked that she’d been reduced to surprised tears. But no more.

Blaise kept peering around and glaring at the floor. Fiddling with his wand as if he would need it at any moment. The one time she’d asked about Astoria, he’d looked at her with such a savage expression, one she never knew was possible coming from him.

“Blaise…?”

“Leave me,” he demanded.

“My sister? Where is she?”

His wand hand twitched for just a second. His eyes dark and dangerous. The air around him had shifted for an instant to an intent she had been familiar with most of her life. Murderous. And that was when the crying stopped. That was when she knew she had to leave here. That was when she knew the rumors revolving around Granger being in danger were true. That her suspicion of Blaise’s involvement had been right.

And she was in danger now.

Just as her hand reached into her robes for her wand, and just as he was coming to stand from where he’d been sitting, something startled him. A small beep. Suddenly distracted, he patted his pocket and brought forth a small…toy of some sort she hadn’t seen before. The sound had obviously come from it. It looked very muggle. He then twirled his wand, as if feeling for something.

Without even a look in her direction, he turned and apparated away.

Collapsing against the banister nearest her for support, she felt her breath come out in small short rasps. The fear that had germinated the day they left had solidified into a determination. She had to find Astoria. But perhaps first, she had to find Granger. And Draco.

They were in danger.

\--

Theo had the phone pressed gingerly to his ear, listening intently as it rung away. It was strange thinking that Blaise was using a muggle cell phone, given how he viewed muggles. Though to see Theo use it so easily, obviously accustomed to using it, was amusing in itself.

They were in an open field near Hermione’s house, a place secluded from the general hubbub of the street as it was tucked away behind the common suburbia. A few charms later and they were invisible to the muggle world in case someone happened to pass by. They would be able to end it here.

This would be the scene of their fight.

They had tried a half an hour ago, to no avail. Blaise hadn’t picked up, or apparated here like he’d planned to and if he was suddenly deciding to ignore Theo, she didn’t know what they’d do. So, tensions were a little high.

Draco had long ago forsaken the stares of Harry and Ron to reach out and wrap an arm around her. She found the hand not around her shoulders and held it clasped between both of hers. One of them could die today, and she would take advantage of every moment she had left with him.

She looked up at him and wasn’t expecting to see him watching her. Lips tilting at the corners weakly, he squeezed her fingers and held her closer to him.

A sharp voice cut the air, the moment shattered. Every head snapped to Theo’s, watching and listening as intently as they could.

A pause and then he muttered thickly, “They’re here.” With a choked breath, he continued on brokenly, as if in pain. Who knew he could act? “The—the blood traitor and the—” He met her eyes briefly and she knew the apology in them, “—mudblood too. They came back!”

Distantly, chopped by the wind and bad weather, she heard Ron mumble something disapproving under his breath. But she didn’t care, Theo could call her whatever he wanted, right now they just had to convince Blaise to come here.

The pause was long, no doubt that Blaise was asking a question a second. “You—you’re telling me to wait?” She felt Draco tense beside her, her own hands grasping his until they probably hurt, but he didn’t move.

Did he suspect something? What if he refused to arrive here and this was all for nothing?

What if he escaped?

Theo rolled his eyes and turned from the group for a moment to swipe his unruly hair out of his face, the wind knocking it right back. He let out a savage breath, angry, as he had every right to be. He was acting, but they were supposed to meet. It had been Blaise’s plan. “You’re telling me to wait? Blaise, what the fuck? They’re—here!”

A pause. Calmly this time, “No…Couldn’t have been thirty minutes ago…You didn’t _pick up_.” He sighed again. “If you knew it was _me_ , then why didn’t you pick up immediately? ...Did, did Daphne do something?” His hooded eyes widened slightly as he listened. “Well you left her there then, what about Astoria?”

That was one of the only major questions left, and no one seemed to know the answer.

“…You didn’t kill her did you?” he rasped. It was a shorter pause this time. Theo exhaled, relief plain on his features. He shook his head to the rest as answer that no she wasn’t dead, then asked, “Then where has she been all this time?”

He met the eyes of Draco and said flatly, “Drunk off her arse?” Beside her, the blond rolled his eyes skyward at the absurdity of it.

Blaise must have laughed, for Theo managed a weak chuckle. It was hardly convincing. “Are you even coming?”

The longest pause yet. Finally, Theo nodded, then remembered it was pointless, and answered, “Good. An hour.” He then relayed their whereabouts and shut the phone, effectively hanging up.

“An hour,” he repeated, grim.

Over head, high up in the darkening sky, the clouds roiled and surged to unleash a deep rumbling of what would soon be rainfall. Theo peered up into the murky sky.

“I told you, Draco, that today would be a sad one.”


	23. Chapter 23

The sky loomed dark and heavy above them. They were silent as the rain soaked through their clothes, dripping from their loosely gripped wands at their sides.

Draco held Hermione close enough she could feel the pounding of his heart.

Ron and Harry watched on, waiting.

Theo stood alone, looking deep in thought. His stare was morbidly precise as the ground suffered under its intensity, and Hermione felt almost like she should say something to draw him out of it.

But of course, she said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Today, someone might die.

Today, she needed to focus.

Ten minutes.

\--

Each second ticked by. Electrifying the silence with maybes and what ifs. She felt time drip by as if clinging to every drop that tingled its way down her skin. It made her sick to her stomach. Shifting her weight to lean further against Draco, she felt rather than heard the already muddy ground squelch under her shoes. It only served to further upset her stomach. Draco rubbed her back absently in small, smooth circles.

And then as a crack echoed through the wet, hazy air, every person in the field froze.

The sound signaled Blaise’s arrival some twenty feet away. He was here. And in his flat stare, Hermione swore she saw the wheels turning. The hard line of his mouth slowly transformed into a smirk, and she knew right then that he understood what was going on.

Blaise’s voice was ice, and overconfident as he shouted across to them, “We’re all here then?”

She felt the absence of warmth as Draco pulled away to step in front of her. He bit back coldly, “Looks like it. Astoria isn’t coming?”

Blaise frowned, quieting somewhat. “No.”

Another second. Draco took a deep breath.

And then the air was fire.

Flames burst out quickly and sporadically from Blaise’s wand but Hermione knew it wasn’t _fiendfyre_. It wasn’t something she recognized. Dodging a burst of heat coiling her way, she realized that Blaise had either tempered with another spell, or had trouble controlling the one he was actually using.

Harry and Ron cast various repelling spells that didn’t succeed in separating him from his wand. Hermione launched a harsh _expulso_ near his feet, making him cease his spell altogether and almost fall backward in his attempt in escaping the blast. She launched another to force him to stay down but he darted around it, coming to aim his wand directly at her head.

“Avada Ked—”

This was it. She had nothing to counter this. Heart thundering in her throat, she faltered, her wand slipping as she tried to squeeze harder, thought it might snap in her fingers, wondered what it felt like to die.

But then Draco was before her. He was running out ahead. Just in front of her. She started to yell, what, she didn’t know. She felt her hands barely graze his back as she tried in vain to push him out of the way. Trying to stop him from sacrificing himself.

“SECTUMSEMPRA!” Draco roared, spitting in the ferocity of it. Blaise flew back, hitting the mud slick ground hard enough to jolt teeth. He cried out in agony and only when his wand fell from his hand did Hermione remember to breath.

The skin of Blaise’s entire chest and half of his face was split open, the red of his blood dark and blackening against his clothes. It poured to the ground as he fought to turn over. His body struggling. His arms shook dangerously and he spit out a weak moan of pain and slumped to the ground again. Hermione could hear the breath come out of him in mighty pushes and pulls, the pain too much to bear. It had barely been five minutes and he was already down, the fight over.

But her pounding heart wouldn’t let up. Everything inside her was on fire. She saw Draco turn to her halfway, eyes wide and shining with something she knew very well.

Movement behind him. A shaky hand raised into the air, the light already shooting from the tip of his wand, newly grabbed up before Harry or Ron could get to him.

For a world shattering moment Hermione felt entirely useless as her voice failed her. But her hand was already rising of its own volition. Pointing level with Blaise’s own. Harry shouted her name.

Blaise wasn’t giving up.

But neither was Draco. He countered the stuttered _crucio_ as soon as it flew from Blaise’s wand. It snapped back and hit the man where he laid, his body jerking violently once before going limp. Draco advanced, coming right down on top of him.

Draco stood over him, pointing his wand directly at his head.

“Any more spells you have before I—”

“Fuck…you!” Blaise spit out messily, faintly.

Moving to his side, Blaise writhed in pain as the gashes across his torso soaked the ground, mixing with the dirt underneath him. Draco knelt, not caring that he was now situated in the mud, and pressed the tip of his wand against Blaise’s skull.

“You fucking done?” he demanded. He pushed one hand into Blaise’s and took his wand from his barely-there grip.

The fight in his eyes fizzled out after nearly half a minute and then he spit in one last defiant gesture. Draco wasted no time in grabbing both wands in one hand, cocking his fist back and launching it directly into Blaise’s face. Being hit at the angle he was, his nose broke with an audible crack.  The blood flowed and he issued a deranged sort of moaning as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Theo all trained their wands down at him. He was caught.

Draco remained where he knelt, making sure Blaise watched every movement he made. He took the other man’s wand carefully, delicately, grey eyes storming, and snapped it in half. Twisting, he splintered the wood, shucked part of it off and threw it behind him without looking.

Blaise’s eyes went completely blank, the pupils dilating, and he closed them, blacking out from the trauma of Draco’s curse.

Hermione watched it unfold before her, watched as Blaise’s wand went through the rain to land inaudibly in some patch of mud behind them all. It didn’t matter that it was broken and would never be repaired.

He would never have one again.

So why did the water trickling down her skin still feel like it burned?

\--

It had taken barely a day before Hermione and Draco were headlining every paper in the Wizarding world. The chaos was so overwhelming, so suddenly famous, that even the muggle world was having trouble ignoring the strange surge in the populous.

Magical representatives from all over the world had managed to arrive at the Ministry. She had even spotted a few distinctly scarred persons that could only be identified at werewolves. She’d passed by and they’d stared, their gazes wild and eerie. For the first time in a while she felt a pang of memory dedicated to Lupin, missed his kind gaze.

They’d taken Blaise back to the Ministry directly after serving him a sleeping drought and casting several spells that would have left a giant immobilized. He’d been seen directly by Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic. He was awed, to say the least. But it had been a quick moment, and then he was once more all business.

It hadn’t taken an hour before an examiner, trailed by two Dementors, arrived to see him off to Azkaban to await his trial. Hermione had shivered next to Draco while they watched the shadowy creatures lingering close to the bloodied wizard. That was the last they saw of him. That was the end of the fight. That was the end of Hermione’s killer.

She hadn’t slept better in her life. Neither, she thought, had Draco. He’d had an arm wrapped tight around her all night and when they’d woken that morning it was still there, his face buried in her hair.

Tonight she doubted she’d be getting any sleep, though, judging from how hectic today was going. They’d _had_ to come to work, not only to resume their actual jobs, but to appeal to the public eye. There was a certain amount of politics you had to play that Hermione had conveniently compartmentalized to the back of her brain, thinking she’d never have need of these talents ever again.

But here they were, still headlining every paper that could print fast enough.

It was thoroughly unenjoyable and in most cases, annoying. She had yet to spot Rita Skeeter, and for this one thing she was grateful. Looking at the clock, it was barely past ten.

She hadn’t seen Draco yet.

Not since they’d arrived at work, that was. But it was still much too long away from him. She wanted to be at home, _their_ home, wrapped in warm blankets together. Left to revel in each other’s presence in peace. But she doubted that would happen either. Not for a while.

When they finally got home they’d certainly be too tired to do anything but sleep, and too stressed to do anything other than lie awake and stare at the walls.

She rubbed her eyes just thinking about it.

It was like this that Paul found her. She’d completely forgotten the man’s existence until this point, but here he was. Just standing in her doorway, effectively blocking the frame from any wayward reporters or curious coworkers that wanted in.

Lifting one brow in curiosity, she asked, “Um, hi Paul? What is it?”

He didn’t enter her office, as he was here only for a message, apparently. He relayed tonelessly, “The Minister wants to see you. Immediately.”

Not surprising. She rose and followed Paul as he carved an easily walked pathway to Shacklebolt’s office.

\--

Upon entering, she was surprised to see Harry standing, waiting for her arrival. The door clicked shut as Paul left. She stayed silent, expecting the others who’d been involved to be called here, particularly Draco, but it didn’t seem likely as Shacklebolt straightened and nodded to Harry.

Harry looked as tired as she felt. Already it was sinking in. He spoke quietly, steadily. Hesitating only once towards the end, “Hermione, there was something of a…fight…this morning.”

“How so?” she asked, too weary to deal with anything resembling a fight for a very, very long time.

“Astoria is here. She’s in custody.”

She couldn’t understand how this was bad. But then, it occurred to her that she could have hurt… “Draco? Is he alright?”

Looking between the other two men in the room did nothing to calm her racing thoughts, her fear that Astoria had somehow walked right in and—

“Malfoy is fine, Hermione. He’s fine.” He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Daphne brought her sister in. They’d come from Azkaban after they found out Zabini had been captured.”

Knowing that Draco was safe, she was confused. “What does that have to do with a fight?”

More hesitation, from both men. It was finally Hermione’s piercing glare, imploring in every sense of the word that finally made Harry answer.

“Blaise is dead.”

She couldn’t exactly say she was upset, just merely even more confused than before. “ _What?_ ”

This time it was the melodious voice of Shacklebolt that answered her, “Daphne hid her wand with her sister. Apparently Astoria handed it to her once they were at his cell, she slipped it through the bars and killed him where he lay.”

Harry said somberly, “His wounds would have gotten him anyway.”

That was understandable. She remembered the way his blood ran in slow rivers through his clothes, the image as clear as if relived through a pensieve. Slowly, she said, “Now we don’t have a case?”

“Not true!” Shacklebolt exclaimed loudly, “We have Theodore Nott, Astoria Greengrass, that note you found in Blaise’s office, and of course, there is you and Malfoy.”

“Would it be enough though? Is it even necessary to have a trial anymore now that he’s dead?”

He answered as if he’d been expecting this question from her. “Astoria still needs to answer for her crimes. As do both Theo and now Daphne. She did commit murder, despite the victim having been a murderer himself.”

“Wait, Theo should be cleared!” She couldn’t let this happen to Theo. He’d been trying just as Draco and she had behind the scenes to take down Blaise. And she couldn’t let him go to Azkaban for something that she had done nearly the same. “He hasn’t done anything we haven’t been doing this whole time.”

Harry spoke up for him as well, “He couldn’t help if he was asked by Zabini himself to cooperate with him. He knew he’d be killed if he refused.”

“Kingsley,” she pleaded, “Please, don’t let him take the fall for a dead man.”

“It will all come out in the trial. You two will be directly involved. You need not worry.” His tone was tired, and he sat. Placing his hands out before him, he asked, “You and Malfoy, I presume, are now romantically involved as a direct result from this case?”

Stilling, she thought this would come up. Biting her tongue, she managed to nod. The two of them catching Blaise hadn’t been the _only_ thing detailed in the many headlines.

He tilted his lips in amusement. “And I know this will not be a hindrance to either of your workloads?”

“Of course not, sir.”

He smiled. “Good. You may go.”

Harry placed a friendly hand to her shoulder before exiting the office. As head of the Auror department, the floor with the greatest amount of press, he had quite a lot to handle today just as Ron did. She remained standing there until the door closed once more.

“Sir, I just wanted to ask if you’ve seen Draco around? I haven’t seen him since this morning, the reporters drove us apart.”

“Oh, were you not aware I had promoted him to Auror?”

“Really?” she asked, more happy than surprised. She knew it was always something that had appealed to him, somewhere around where his pride resided. Though she fully expected a fresh rivalry to build between him and Harry and Ron.

She was too excited to think about that now though as she hurried out, “Where is his office?” He relayed to her the number, noticed pleasantly that it was quite a bit nearer than his old office, and headed off to see him, Harry’s smile trailing after her.

\--

Draco was moving boxes around when she entered, face lit with a wide smile, absolutely beaming at him. He set the box down as she closed the door and they met in the middle. His hands went to her face as he pushed her back against his door, fully aware that the blind wasn’t drawn and they were very visible to world outside. He didn’t care. Once her hands went to his neck, once their lips met, there was nothing else except her; so perfectly, beautifully alive before him.

They’d barely touched for a minute before her face was flushed and her eyes were glazed. He imagined he looked much the same, but something held him back. He knew she hadn’t known he’d acquired a new job position and therefore Shacklebolt must’ve told her. So he’d called her to his office…but for what?”

But he couldn’t speak she was so beautiful. So warm, eyes bright and large and full of emotion, her hands stroking the sides of his neck, her lips flush from _him_. Alive. She was _alive_ and unharmed, right here, in front of him. The sight was so relieving, so cripplingly so that he found he no longer had a voice.

But she did. She whispered up to him joyfully, “Your office is much closer.”

Still unable to summon words to his faulty lips, he could only smile and bury his face in her neck, the scent and feel of her skin and curls. Hugging her to him, he held her tight. She sighed pleasantly against him, returning his embrace just as earnestly.

Suddenly words were tumbling from his lips, quiet and shaky, but words all the same. “Merlin, Hermione…Don’t leave me, I can’t handle it if you do. If you want to end things, go back to how it was before, I don’t know if I—”

Her hands stilled, and he feared his strange words caught her off guard. He had no idea why he said them, they just…bolted right out of him. His heart raced, needing and not wanting to know her answer all at once. It had been on his mind since they’d caught Zabini. What if this was all due to the case? He would understand why but it hurt, thinking it could end before it really started, whatever _it_ was and—

Hermione moved to grasp his jaw firmly, made him look at her. When their eyes met, his heart lurched, his whole frame seemed to. He muttered, “I don’t even know why I said that, I—”

He was stopped by a careful kiss. “I would never leave you, Draco.”

There was that feeling again. The one that shook him and rooted him all at once. The one he felt his whole body react to, the one that whenever he saw her, was around her, he had to maintain. The one he couldn’t control, afraid he might scare her off. The one he never fully acknowledged until this moment.

“I love you,” he whispered, his eyes squeezing shut.

Hermione went tense in his arms and he panicked. Tried thinking of how to take it back, not mean it, go back to the kissing, yes the kissing was much nicer than his _idiot no good excuse for a brain_.

“Stop it. You’re doing that thing again, where you want to run,” she told him. He opened his eyes when she placed a kiss just to side of his mouth. He looked down at her, squinting in confusion. She had tears in her eyes and he felt his stomach flip.

“I love you,” he repeated, his hands moving over her back in gentle strokes. There was joy there, in her eyes.

“I know you do,” she managed between kisses, “Draco Malfoy. And I love you.”

Good Merlin, she was going to be the death of him.

Never breaking eye contact, he reached behind her to draw the blind on his door, locked it. Lifted her effortlessly to rest pleasantly against him, his hands under her thighs. Breathed out a silencing spell. Sat her atop his new desk, settled between her legs, all the while kissing her. Kissing every part he could reach, from her wrists, to her flawless collarbones, to the top of her lightly freckled forehead. His touch was sweet, finally having put a name to it. He was loving her through every action. As she was loving him.

The last thought was a nod towards Theo’s damning intuition before he gave in to a more focused affair.


	24. Chapter 24

The case had played out easily. The use of Veritaserum was prime and helped to speed things along immensely. It saved the countless weeks of torturous games of lies and battling back and forth with ‘maybes’. It was not always used, most of the time being against court order for the violation against Wizard rights…but this time was different. This was a case that had headlined every magical newspaper in the world. It had been labeled as the third coming of Voldemort, by Skeeter no less. And it didn’t hurt that Theo had been the one to suggest it in the first place.

And with that kind of publicity, not even the Ministry of Magic could afford to dance around the trial anymore.

First Harry and Ron were brought forward to present the evidence, and Hermione and Draco had been called as witnesses respectively. The Wizengamot was unnaturally quiet when Hermione took the stand. Thankfully, it hadn’t lasted too long, for any of them.

In the end it had taken two weeks. Most of that time had been dedicated to paperwork and settling Zabini’s property, dealing with Azkaban and the arrest of Astoria Greengrass. Daphne had been found innocent of the murder of Blaise.

She hadn’t been the one to kill him after all.

It had been Astoria.

Shacklebolt had been right about Astoria hiding Daphne’s wand and then returning it to her within the prisons walls. Had been right about Daphne committing the act. But she’d been under the _imperio_ curse. And was therefore innocent.

Though Hermione swore the hate in Daphne’s eyes was enough to say she would have done it anyway.

Hermione hadn’t been the only one shocked to hear Daphne’s story. How Blaise had taken her to America and how she’d originally come back here to warn _her_. Her and Draco. Every pair of eyes locked onto Daphne as she’d spoken and listened intensely to each and every word she said.

It was an odd thing to have such sudden and immense conviction from someone she hadn’t even known. Not even in school. In school they’d been enemies by house, so why this? It was something that was answered almost immediately as she’d thought it.

_“I came back for my sister. To protect her. And to warn Granger and Malfoy that Blaise was crazy. At first, I wasn’t sure…but I saw the change in him. I saw the darkness inside him finally bend and snap. He was lost to me.”_

Hermione had felt a lurch in her heart to hear the love in her words. The love for her sister, the one person she held above everyone else. For her, she _would_ have killed Blaise, and she’d even said as much. But ultimately, the case ended in Astoria’s immediate arrest and incarceration in Azkaban for at least the next fifteen years. If they couldn’t have Blaise, they’d have her. And they were just fine with that.

When she’d asked Draco about it that night when they were lying curled against one another, he’d shrugged.

 _“She knew what she was doing. She knew what she was risking. I’ve told you before, Granger, I hadn’t felt anything other than annoyance at her for a long time before you came along. And then when you did…when she tried to_ kill _you…I decided it wasn’t worth it even to think of her as a human being anymore._

_“She gets what she gets.”_

His words had been harsh, but she couldn’t judge him on them. She’d felt no such familiarity towards her and she certainly hadn’t felt like trying to be friends with the woman who’d ruined her home and cursed her until she was a babbling mess.

Hermione’s skin had prickled just remembering that day.

But then Draco’s hands circled around her waist, and they’d fallen asleep.

Presently, Hermione felt neither here nor there about Astoria. She wasn’t the kind of person to say _let her rot for all I care_ , and she wasn’t about to go protesting for her release. So there had been nothing to do except be satisfied that Astoria would no longer be after her life. After Draco’s life.

And for that, she was thankful.

\--

After the trial was over, and Theo had been released along with Daphne, the serum having revealed it all, he’d met Draco and her on the street outside. And to their surprise he’d clasped Draco’s shoulder and took Hermione’s hand respectfully in his own and nodded to her.

The single affection to each of them, along with the earnestness in his eyes was enough to make her tear up. She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a friendly squeeze. His thanks, his apology, and every other misunderstood blood between them had been remedied in that one look.

Draco was saying something but she didn’t hear as Theo was whispering very quietly to her, “Thank you, Hermione Granger. Thank you, to both of you.”

She pulled back with a nod and grabbed Draco’s hand to which he rose a brow. He glanced at Theo and tilted his head in question.

Theo only smiled lightly and shook his head. “Another time, Draco. I have somewhere that requires my immediate arrival.”

Draco smirked at that. “Wouldn’t want to be late.”

Theo turned and headed off, blending into the street of muggles and Wizarding kind alike easily save for his slight stoop and brooding figure.

Draco raised the hand that clasped her own and pointed with both of their hands at the departing man. “I will never figure that guy out.”

She laughed softly. “Maybe you’re not supposed to.”

“Where do you think he needs to be?” he asked, turning to her.

“I think he’s off to enjoy some time alone.”

“He’s _always_ alone.”

“But now he’ll be able to rest.”

They all would.

\--

It had been six months since the case.

Six months since the events of Blaise Zabini’s death and Astoria’s incarceration. Of Daphne’s and Theo’s release, their names having been completely cleared of any and all blame, save of course for the ridiculous gossip, but that wasn’t something that could be erased so easily.

Six months of living with Draco. And how it was a _very_ good month. She hadn’t been lying to him when she said she wouldn’t leave him. She’d found more truth in that statement than in anything else the last few months, and it was the beginning of something promising. She just knew. And she was enjoying every moment with the man she loved. Just as he was with her.

Six months and Ginny had a pleasant swell to her belly. Harry was fretting worse than when he’d been partially obsessed with Draco in sixth year.

Six months and Ron was settling into his new relationship.

Six months and she and Ron had managed to meet for lunches, once being an accidental double date with her and Draco to her endless amusement. Their entire group went for drinks—save for Ginny, who was resolved to replacing drinking with dancing—at least once a month and she found Draco to be settling in almost…easily.

Hermione finally got that dance with Draco, who’d held her close and whispered promises into her hair.

Six months…and everything was back to normal.

But this normal was completely new, it was something different, and she found she loved it very much.

\--

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!


End file.
